


Mischief

by RilesBiles



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bruises, Damnit, Hockey, Ice Skating, Incognito identities, Jack is Emo but denies it, Jack is out of character at first though with good reason, M/M, Masks, Slow Burn, This is set in washington, concussion, everyones gay, followed by 'no homo's but its still flirting boys, his P!ATD says all tbfh, minor injury, theres flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RilesBiles/pseuds/RilesBiles
Summary: Septic, an anonymous boy known for the mask that hides his identity, is a figure skating phenomenon. Mark Fischbach, the boy known for getting knocked down on ice, is a hockey player that barely made it on his team. When Septic goes incognito due to injury, news spreads worldwide as people try to discover just who this Septic guy is. Mark never figured he would be one to find out.Once the identity is revealed, will the two be able to help each other out? Or will their friendship get completely ruined.





	1. Mischief

"And he lands a quadruple axel, followed by a triple toe loop! A steady footwork that follows the music wonderfully!" 

The sound of blades against ice mixed in with blaring music, as the announcer's voice rang out into a practically roaring crowd. In the center of the rink, a man skated backwards, looking over his shoulder as he built up speed. The black mask felt like a heavy weight on the boy's face, anticipation growing thickly, before he brought his foot forward and kicked off of the ground. He stumbled, caught himself, and continued skating forward, pivoting on his foot as he forced his body to flow with the music. "Another triple toe-loop! This kid's on fire!" The announcer roared, leaning forward on his seat and watching as the masked figure brought his leg up, steadily gliding across the ice with one leg as the music drew out peacefully. He rose his hand up, breathing heavily and feeling every eye on him. Blue eyes darted around, before he dropped his foot, kicking off his back leg and landing on the other as he began to spin.

"No one would have expected this competition tonight! The music's picking up and he's literally a blur on the ice! Records are breaking tonight, people!" 

Septic took a deep breath, sweat forming on his brow as he quickly tried to pick up speed. He turned his body towards the crowd, jumping up and doing the splits mid-air before coming back down gracefully, spreading his arms out wide as he brought his heels together in a perfect line and glided across the ice, bringing his hand up towards the sky. He looked up right when the music kicked, bringing his hand down as he skated backwards, suddenly turning around with open arms then bringing them back with a smirk. He crouched low to the ground, using his arms for balance before kicking off into a fast spin in the center of the rink. With one leg out, he crouched down as he spun, holding his knee close before grabbing his foot and lifting himself up high, foot above his head as he spun with one arm out.

He balanced out from his spin, before taking off from the center of the rink, the music increasing to a familiar Irish jig. He felt a smile grace his lips as he kicked his feet off the ground, doing a stereotypical Irish dance with his hands on his hips, kicking his legs out and twisting his hips, before pivoting on his foot--similar to how a ballerina would. He bent his back, raising his arm above his head as he spun, before breaking off and skating around the rink.

"Septic, the boy in the mask, would you believe it? His technical jumps are outstanding, and you just can't take his eyes off him! I've never seen such clean jumps from anyone else!"

"You're right on that! The quadruple axel is one of the hardest moves in figure skating, and he pulls it off as if it's child's play. For someone in the junior competition, it's outstanding! This sixteen year old boy is here to win!" 

As if on queue to his words, Septic jumped, heels clicking together as he brought his hands above his head when he spun. He landed with a click, another quadruple axel, before jumping off of the same foot and spinning. He hissed when he only landed a double toe, instead of triple, jumping again only to land another double toe. He brought his leg up gracefully, skating backwards from the landing, before his heart rate doubled at his next jump. He swallowed thickly as he began to pick up speed, before skating completely backwards, doing his best not to look over his shoulders.

He brought his leg behind him, feeling the music fade out as his heartbeat pumped in his ears. It was as if time slowed down as he brought his leg behind him, eyebrows knitting together, as he swore he heard his Coach screaming at him in anger. He had practiced this for a year, he could do it! His eyes broke from looking at his fuming coach, before he brought his leg forward, crouching down and kicking his foot off of the ground.

The only other skater he remembered doing this was Surya Bonaly, in the 1998 olympics. It was called the Bonaly, after all, and the jump was made illegal in competition, so he knew really that it wouldn't count for points, but the overwhelming urge to prove everyone he could do it burned through his veins. Pushing all of his power into his legs, Septic kicked off the ground, doing the splits mid air as he went upside down. The blood rushed to his head, as he felt the crowd roaring, the announcers screaming into the mic, as he felt his blades touch back down after doing the flip...

And his toe caught on the ice.

His eyes widened in alarm as his ankle twisted painfully, and he fell, watching everything in slow motion as his head came into contact with the ice. His body skid across the ice, motionless, as the force of the impact made him unable to even move his body. The screaming was overwhelming the second the music suddenly cut off, and the announcers were roaring over the crowd, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was his coach sprinting towards him with no skates on her feet.  
\----

Mark's mother was practically screaming at the screen, horror written on her face as Thomas gripped her shoulder's in shock. 

The television was on brightly in the dark room, and Mark looked up from his studies, feeling a bit of annoyance seep through him at his mother's reaction. He got up from his spot on the kitchen counter, walking towards his mother as she fanned herself, and she quickly clutched his arm and pulled him down. 

"He fell! He's not moving!" His mother practically wailed, and Mark peered at the screen, interest picking up when the camera zoomed in on the person's body.

It was Septic.

Mark felt annoyance return to him, remembering how it was the topic of his school. The girls were crazy over him, especially when they wanted to find out who exactly was under that mask of his. No one knew his name, or where he came from, all that's known is he's a 'Phenomenon of the century' for Junior Ice skating. Mark always thought of him as arrogant, however, and cocky with how he preformed on stage.

His brother and mother loved him, though.

"He was doing a flip!" Thomas was staring at the screen in shock. "He knew that was illegal! Why did he attempt it?" 

"Illegal?" Mark questioned, turning towards his brother. "He wouldn't get disqualified if he landed it, would he?" He asked, and Thomas shook his head, as if remembering Mark was clueless when it came to figure skating.

"No, it just means it doesn't count for any points. They deemed it too dangerous, so they think if they offer points for it, too many people will attempt it to best the others." Thomas explained to him, and the Tv went on a slow motion replay of the scene. Mark watched as Septic skated up, his moves in slow motion as he turned completely backwards and brought his leg behind him. He studied his figure as the boy crouched down low, kicking his foot forward as both feet left the ground. He chewed the inside of his cheek at the fact that he did the splits, mid air, and from the looks of it, it was performed perfectly. However, he noticed where it went wrong. He overestimated his landing.

He winced when he saw Septic's ankle twist painfully. It zoomed in close as the skater fell forward, and hit his head on the ice hard, and his body skid forward from the motion when he lay still. A lady ran out into the ice, crouching down towards his body, and with that the replay stopped. It zoomed in as the boy's body was lifted onto the stretcher, mask still on as if his identity mattered more than his injury. The announcer was silent, and despite the fact that the audience had stopped roaring, their whispers and talk filled the air inside the rink when the paramedics exited the area.

"He'll be okay, right? I mean, he'll be back on his feet in no time." Mark's mother talked to herself, and Mark couldn't help but sigh in defeat. Sometimes he wondered which was important to her, her son's competitions in hockey or this guy's ice skating. He snorted, getting to his feet with a huff, and turned off the Tv. Thomas and his mother made a sound of disapproval, but Mark folded his arms.

"It's late, you guys won't even pay attention to the other skaters at this point either." He reminded them, and Mark's mom practically deflated once she got up. Thomas sat there for a moment longer, before getting up as well. 

Thomas looked at Mark, before patting his little brother on the shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. "On a lighter note." Thomas began for a change of subject. "How's you're training going?" 

Mark stiffened after sitting down at the counter, though hid it behind turning the page in his textbook. "Its okay." He mumbled, and Thomas rose a steady eyebrow at him. "I mean, I tried working of footwork, really. Coach says I'm too, uh, eager to get the puck?" He winced at how that sounded, and Thomas shook his head. "I mean, the good news is, I barrel through the defense easy! It's just...teamwork." He finished, grumbling again as he closed his textbook with a _thud_. 

"Hey, you have a year until the next tryouts. You'll make the cut." Thomas said, ruffling his little brother's hair before opening the fridge door. He brought out a coca cola, offering it to Mark who shook his head, before he uncapped it and took a sip. "What's a Fischbach without fighting spirit?" Mark grinned, though for a second, before he got to his feet and stretched with a yawn.

Next year was gonna be fun.  
\----

Three days into his senior year, and Mark knew he was right.

The school had been practically buzzing with energy when he stepped through the doors, as Freshmen sprinted past him to get to their class the second the warning bell rang. Mark Fischbach shrugged his bag off of his shoulders once he entered his first period class, tossing his bag down and flopping onto his desk. To his right, Tyler glanced at him, intimidating expression relaxing as he rolled his eyes at Mark's demeanor. 

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Tyler asked him, grinning as Mark shook his head with a huff. 

"I made it in." Mark grinned, looking up at Tyler--and watched as his best friend's face split from ear to eat in a smile. He reached over, and patted him--rather painfully-- on the shoulder.

"Fucking knew it! We've been practicing for too long for you NOT to make the cut." Mark chuckled, hitting him back.

He didn't want to remind him that it was because another kid dropped out, but that didn't falter Mark's mood in the slightest. Tyler was captain of the team, since his dad was coach, and unbeknownst to his father Tyler had been practicing one on one with Mark in the rink. Hell, he even sported a bloody nose, wearing it proudly with a grin until their practice was over. Tyler, unlike Mark, was a complete natural when it came to the ice, since he was born and raised up here, meanwhile Mark moved in a few years ago and had to get used to the ice.

But hard work paid off, and Mark couldn't wipe the stupid grin on his face throughout class.

"Oh yeah, Mark, we're meeting up at a different spot during lunch, to get away from the freshmen and all." Tyler brought up once the bell rang, signalling the end of class. "We'll meet up under the tree, out in the courtyard. Find a spot from there." Mark nodded his head, before turning and walking down the hallway. It was understandable, really, for some reason, the freaking freshmen were out and about causing trouble with sour attitudes. Well, not ALL the freshmen, but it was a stereotype that rang true. Mark wasn't really that much better back then. Usually around sophomore year, everyone sort of chills out and matures. Until then, though, he just wanted to get away from all that.

He hummed, mind preoccupied, as he rounded the corner of the hallway. He didn't watch where he went, though, as something solid collided with his chest with a yelp. Mark winced, stumbling back and looking down at a person laying on the ground, books scattered in the hallway, and Mark immediately crouched down, though paused after grabbing one of his books.

It was a grade 12 English Lit book, and Mark turned his head towards the boy who sat up with a groan. Mark didn't recognize him, which is weird, since he kind of knew everybody in his grade, though quickly shrugged it off as he helped the boy grab his things.

"Heh, sorry about that. Mind was a mile away, you good?" Mark asked, brown eyes meeting blue as he got a good look at the boy's face. Messy, brown hair sat on top of the students head, as if he had forgotten to comb through it, and piercing blue eyes stared at him for a few seconds longer than normal. He sported a grey jacket and pants that looked just a little too big for him, and a messenger bag was slung over his shoulders. The boy picked up his cap, placing it back into his head from where it flew off. His bushy eyebrows were knit, lips drawn into a line, as he knitted his eyebrows.

"Yeah, 'm sorry, got lost and wasn't lookin'." He grunted, and Mark recognized an accent....Scottish? No, Irish. Mark nodded his head as he got up, and offered a hand to the boy, who quickly took it with a soft 'thanks'. Mark's hand lingered a moment longer, before he let go and handed his books to the boy, who quickly took it.

"I haven't seen you around before, you new?" Mark asked, causing blue eyes to flash up in timid alarm, before looking down sheepishly. 

"Y-yeah, just moved in yesterday. Senior." He paused a moment. "Uh, Name's Sean, you can call me Jack though." He introduced himself, hugging his textbooks to his chest. 

"Mark." He introduced, giving him a friendly grin, before pausing. "You need help finding your class?" He then asked, remembering how the boy said he got lost. Relief played onto Jack's face, and Mark knew he had remembered correctly. He shuffled through his pocket, taking out his schedule and peering at it for a long moment.

"Uh...do you know where Mrs. Aaron's room is?" Jack asked, and Mark nodded his head, though winced.

"Shit, yeah. Uh, warning for her class. Don't say anything unless you're called on, and absolutely do not listen to music. Had her my junior year, she's got a real attitude." Mark explained, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway, in which Jack quickly caught up to him and stuck like glue to his side. Mark noticed his behavior--how Jack was timid and trying to make himself seem smaller by bringing his shoulders close. He wanted to tell him to relax, though knew how rough first day's are. 

They walked in peaceful silence, before the math class came up. He paused at the door, before waving Jack off, who looked at him for a long moment before walking in without a word. Mark found himself standing in the doorway for a long moment, watching as he walked up to the teacher to introduce himself, before turning on his heel and walking off. 

He was late for his next class, but after explaining to the teacher what had happened, Mr. Jackson nodded his head and Mark took his normal seat next to his friend, Wade. They exchanged grins, before Mark kicked back in his seat, putting his earphones in and cranking it up.

They had managed to find a nice spot next to the gym during lunch, and Mark didn't complain, since it was away from the cafeteria and more quiet. 

Tyler had Mrs Aaron second period, and Mark listened in as he talked about having a new kid in his class. Mark glanced over, feigning disinterest, when in reality he listened in to every word they talked about Sean. "He's kinda weird, no one really talked to him. I kinda felt bad, I was gonna invite him to lunch with us, but he bolted out the door the second the bell rang." Tyler went on, shrugging his shoulders. "Took a seat in the back and kept quiet the whole time." Wade nodded his head, and Bob glanced up from his sandwich.

"Oh hey, I think I know who you're talking about. He wore that weird cap." Bob piped in. "Surprised he was a senior, actually. Our classes are right next to each other." Ethan, who had remained silent the whole time due to be fixated on his food, looked up.

"Oh yeah. He's in my Psychology class." Ethan chimed in after swallowing a slice of pizza. "Name's Sean McLoughin, apparently he's from Ireland." He paused, making a face. "Some girl's were hell of rude to him, though, asking him if he were a leprechaun for being shorter than--" He cut himself off, and Mark scowled.

"Yeah, than me, I get it." He grumbled, biting into his ham sandwich as Ethan chuckled. 

"He's pretty cool, actually. He admitted he was really spooked and nervous since it was his first day, though. Said his old school was a catholic one." Ethan went on, before taking a bite out of his pizza.

"I heard Ireland is like, 90% catholic." Wade chimed in, and Ethan's eyebrows knit as he swallowed his pizza down. 

"Nah, it was a school in America, said he moved here when he was ten. Probably just moved states or somethin." 

Mark nodded along with the conversation, though lost interest once the subject changed to homework, and he felt himself zoning out until the bell rang to signal them to go to their next class. He hopped to his feet, shoving the rest of his sandwich down his throat as he hopped to his feet. "Hey Mark, meet up at the rink at Six. Gotta work on your defense." Tyler told him with a pat on his shoulder, and Mark nodded before holding up the doors for everyone else.

He happened to fall asleep during fifth period, and his teacher just shook his head and let him get some rest.

By the time of Sixth period, he felt groggy.

He walked into his class (since it was right next door to his Fifth period), and nearly ran right into Mrs. Davis. She huffed, swatting him upside the head, and Mark waved her off with more alertness and a grin on his face.

Mrs. Davis was a merry old lady, who was surprisingly relaxed and easygoing. He had her his freshman year, and learned that she practically spoiled her students--and she was a school favorite. Despite her age, she was relatively energetic and tended to pick on the students she enjoyed--Mark included--and right now was a good example. "Watch yourself, Fischbach, I'll sick my dog on you if you sleep in my class." She scolded, having noticed his sleepy expression, and he snorted in reply with a 'yeah, yeah' and 'don't worry about it', as he fell into his seat dramatically.

"Oh, its so tempting, I gotta close my eyes!" He exclaimed dramatically, resting his face against the table.

"Ohhhh no you don't!" He was swatted with a ruler. He guffawed, waving her off with a grin as she huffed and went to the front. "Only the third day and you're causing me trouble!" She said with a scowl, as she erased what was previously on the board. Tyler took his usual spot next to Mark's left, and Ethan sat behind him, his blue hair sticking out like a sore thumb. The bell rang, and every student got to their seat, putting away their phones and chattering among themselves. Mrs. Davis pivoted after finishing her writing, opening her mouth to say something, when the door opened.

And there stood Jack, breathing heavily with a red face, Lit book pressed firmly against his chest as he stepped into the classroom. All chattering died down in interest as the boy hurried over to Mrs. Davis, talking to her barely above a murmur. She nodded her head after a moment, offering him a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder, as her eyes scanned the room. Her eyes met Mark's, and Mark nodded his head. "You can have a seat next to Mister Fischbach over there." She offered, and Jack's eyes trailed over to where Mark rose his hand to signal where he was. Relief washed over Jack's face, as he nodded a thanks before hurrying over to the empty desk to Mark's right.

"Alright everyone. Today we're going to be practicing creative writing, something you all probably haven't done since middle school." Mrs. Davis began, but mark wasn't really paying attention, instead his eyes glanced to the boy to his right. Sean's eyes were focused on the teacher, notebook out and open, and his knee was bouncing. Either he had a serious case of ADHD, or he was nervous, either way he held back a chuckle as he reached into his bag and brought out a sheet of paper. "I want you all to partner up, and with that partner, come up with a short story. Practice everything we went over, I want to see how much all of you forgot over summer break." 

Jack stiffened, though Mark gave him a friendly smile and offered to be partners, which the other boy quickly accepted. He glanced at Tyler, who nodded his head before turning around to partner up with Ethan. Mark rested his elbows onto his desk as the room exploded with excited chatter, and he turned to Jack. "Hate to say it, I'm not the best at English." He offered, and Jack's mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile. 

"Don't worry, I'll do the writing as long as you don't get mad at my shite handwriting." Jack offered, and Mark tried his best not to chuckle at his accent.

"Your's is probably better than mine." Mark said with a smirk, before leaning forward. "She didn't give us a prompt or anything....Why not something about sports?" He offered, since he felt more rehearsed in that area. 

"If we pick football, I'm leavin' the class." Jack grumbled, causing Mark to quirk an eyebrow.

"Alright, how about skating?" He offered, and Jack's head turned to him to suddenly, he thought he had said something wrong. Jack looked at him for a while, then knit his eyebrows. 

"Why skating?" He prompted, obviously interested.

"I mean, I dunno, I kinda like it. I'm in the hockey team, so I guess it would be easier for me to write about." At this, Jack looked as if he deflated, though did his best not to show it. Mark frowned a bit.

"Ok, lets write about hockey. How about...the underdog goes up against a badass, undefeated team, and he makes the score that wins?" Jack offered, and Mark snorted at the thought of that, feeling his stomach tighten.

"Sure, and how about...the first time he tried, he got a bad injury, so all hope seems lost until something caused him to get his shit together?" At this, Jack winced, though for whatever reason it was, Mark didn't press it. He hurried to continue, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "I mean, like, his best friend coaxes him and trains him to get back into the team, and at the end of the match, the player charges forward and shoots it in when there's only seconds left, and causes their team to win." He said, waving his hands slightly, and Jack nodded his head as he began to scribble down onto his paper.

"You sound like you experienced that." Jack noted, and Mark stiffened slightly before relaxing his shoulders.

"Yeah, my friend Tyler's dad is the coach. Tyler helped me get onto the team. Though, I never exactly scored major points. Least not yet." Mark offered, and Jack paused writing for a moment before continuing. They made small talk about the sport, though it slowly drifted to other topics. "Hey, how'd you like your first day? Ethan told me you went to, what... a catholic school?" He asked, peering down to see what Jack was writing....Bad handwriting, my ass.

Jack didn't look up, chewing on his lower lip before talking. "It's real different. My school was way out from the city, so it was kinda small. Took an hour to drive from there to the rink." He paused, as if he caught himself, and Mark decided to press his luck.

"Rink? You skate?" He offered, and Jack paused to look up, eyes looking troubled. This caused Mark to pause, too, and stare into his eyes for a moment, wondering what he was hiding as a tense silence passed between them.

"Heh...yeah, somethin' like that." Jack said after a long moment, looking away from Mark's gaze, fidgeting as he didn't pick back up on his writing. He cleared his throat, looking back and offering Mark a more friendly smile. "Wouldn't believe how strict my teachers were. The dresscode was insane. Girl's couldn't wear makeup or earrings. Guys couldn't wear t-shirts or hoodies." He paused. "People got in trouble for the stupidest shite. Someone got expelled for being gay." His expression shifted, as he slowly began writing again. "Ma and I fought about me changing schools, she thought it would be best for me, I just wanted to get outta there and get inspiration somewhere else. She ended up relentin', and here I am." 

"Woah, wait, expelled for being _gay_?" Mark asked, eyes widening. Jack nodded nervously,chewing the inside of his lip. "Well, that sucks, I'd be outta there in second."

"Wait, you're gay?" Jack asked, and Mark broke out into a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at the other student.

"Pan, actually, but who's countin?" Mark said, winking at the boy...and to his surprise...he...blushed? Jack quickly looked away, face flaring up, and Mark felt a slow smile spread to his face. "Relax, dude." He said, lightly punching Jack's shoulder, who huffed and returned the gesture in annoyance.

Jack actually smiled, and Mark felt as if he accomplished something great with that. They worked in comfortable silence, up until Jack finished, and gave it to Mark to read over. Mark took it gingerly in his hands, reading over the first few sentences, before he almost felt his jaw slacked.

Who the fuck was this kid? Is he the new Stephen King? Not only was his handwriting extremely neat, his writing was extremely fluid and descriptive, and he found himself reading it easily all the way until the end. Then he read over it, taking note to some of the Literary terms he could notice, nodding his head approvingly. "Ah, shucks, you're definitely gonna be Mrs. Davis' favorite." Mark commented. Jack's skills in Literature were ten times greater than Mark's, by far, and at that Jack seemed to perk up proudly. At the mention of her name, Mrs. Davis trotted over, noticing the duo was finished. Mark handed it back to Jack, who handed it to Mrs. Davis, who then looked over it as she went back to her desk.

"It's nothin, really, you should read what my sister writes." Jack commented after a moment, and Mark merely shrugged his shoulders. He watched as Mrs. Davis read over their paper, and felt a nice fluttering feeling in his chest when she broke out into a soft smile and gave Mark a thumbs up when she finished. He grinned, and was about to say something, when he felt a chin on his shoulder that caused him to Jerk out of his thoughts.

"Wanna sit with us at Lunch tomorrow?" Tyler asked, aiming the direction at Sean, who looked a little startled at his sudden appearance. 

"I...uh..?" Jack stammered out.

"Oh, right. Jack, this is Tyler, the one I mentioned." Mark introduced, and with that, Tyler reached over his shoulder and offered out a hand to him. Jack looked awfully intimidated, which admittedly, a lot of people got around Tyler. At the mention of his name, though, Jack relaxed a bit and shook his hand.

"Nice to meetcha. Uh, I didn't see you guys in the cafeteria, where do you meet up?" Jack asked slowly, eyebrows knitting as he looked between Mark and Tyler. Ethan popped in, a grin on his face as he looked between Jack and Mark, and immediately Mark knew he was up to no good. 

"We just changed spots, hang out on that one table outside the gym." Ethan offered, grinning at Mark when Jack smiled. "I'm sure Mark would love to have you sit with us." Mark rolled his eyes. Even though Ethan had only moved here from Maine a year ago, he had warmed up awfully quickly to the group, resulting in a surprisingly motherly attitude. 

"Sure, mom, decide my life choices." Mark muttered, only to be slapped upside the head by Ethan. Mark huffed, moving forward to slap him back, but the piece of shit ducked back in his seat with a grin, just out of reach.

"Okay, sure." Jack decided, causing all three of the boys to break out into a grin. "Anyone else gonna be there?"

"Well, yeah. Bob and Wade are stuck to us like glue. Wade's a little awkward, and Bob's super sarcastic, so you better watch out for that. Then you got these losers--oww!--, and once in a while both Matt or Ryan will come along and eat with us. We're all one big, dysfunctional family." Mark grinned, draping his arm over Tyler's neck since he couldn't reach Ethan. Jack's lips parted into a pleasant grin, one that caused Mark's heart to skip a beat, before he shot a wink at Mark.

"I can deal with dysfunctional."


	2. Panic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your average Teenage awkwardness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to change the chapter settings, so don't worry! Last chapter definitely was NOT the last chapter, and im sorry!

Heavy breathing practically bounced off the walls of the rink, Mark Fischbach getting into yet another defensive position as he held his hockey stick in the ready. His lip was busted, due to the blunt force of the last impact, and he felt a tad bit of blood drip down onto his chin, and onto his hockey gear. On the opposite side of the rink, Tyler stood, jaw locked with narrow eyes--before he suddenly darted forward. Mark tensed, trying his best to keep focused on the puck as he skated backwards, bracing for impact as Tyler practically knocked him flat onto his ass.

He hissed in pain, before scrambling to his feet, helplessly watching as the puck collided on the wall where the goal would be. By this time, the shorter boy was wheezing, skating over towards the wall and leaning against it as Tyler pivoted on the ice, skating slowly towards him.

"You hesitated." Tyler noted, looking Mark up and down as he took off his mits. He took a look at Mark's busted lip, but Mark shooed him off, telling him it was nothing as he pushed back off of the wall. "Your defense is getting steadily better, though. You have no support when I rammed into you, though. Where's your balance at?" Tyler pushed further, following his friend.

"I don't know." Mark groaned, rubbing a gloved-hand over his face to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. "I don't know, I just. I just panicked." He admitted shakily, refusing to look up into Tyler's eyes. Doubt was practically eating at him at this point. Tyler stood there for a moment, chewing his lip--a habit he obtained when thinking hard on something-- before sighing. Mark looked up at him as Tyler grabbed him by the arm, skating over towards the bench and having Mark plop down.

"I think that's enough for today. You're busted up, and obviously something's on your mind and screwing you over." Tyler noted, and Jack watched as Mark sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

"Y-yeah, you're right..."

"C'mon, lets go get changed. I got homework to do." 

Shit.

Jack looked around in alarm from where he stood, feeling panic set in at the thought of being caught. Tyler and Mark both exited the rink, sitting down on a bench to untie their laces and slide the ice skates off--and jack took the opportunity to scoop up his bag and throw himself into the changing room. There wasn't any other place to go! If he was screwed before, he was definitely screwed now, and Jack looked around frantically before going over to one of the lockers that didn't have a lock on it and throwing it open. He realized he couldn't fit with his bag, and in a gut-wrenching moment, the idiot tossed it behind the vending machine before closing the locker onto himself.

He didn't mean to watch them, really.

Jack had been planning on visiting the rink already, since his Ma had called in with the guy who owns it so he would be able to practice there. When he arrived, the front desk was empty, so therefore Jack waltzed in to take a look around. He was about to step through the doors to the rink, when he heard the sound of a collision, and he happened to peer through the window only to see, no other, than Mark and Tyler.

He should have turned back then, really, except curiosity had practically tore him apart, so he entered in quietly to watch what was going on.

And thus, led to this encounter. Jack jerked his chin into the air, opening up his naval passage so he could, quickly, calm his breathing down, though it was hard to with his racing heart and shaking legs. Mark, and Tyler, both stepped into the changing room, going to their specific lockers. Mark looked undoubtedly dejected, and Tyler looked as if he were going to say something...though didn't. It took everything Jack had not to piss himself at how terrified he was at this moment, and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth--and eyes when Mark took off his shirt.

"Well, the good news, we found what you really need to work on." Tyler pipped up, and Jack heard a snort come from Mark. There was shuffling, and Jack slowly lifted a finger so he could stare through the holes in the locker--and nearly screamed when Tyler had stopped right in front of the locker HE was in. Tyler was reaching on top of the locker, before he came back down with his bag, and Jack would have passed out then and there it wouldn't cause him to spill out of the locker unconscious.

"Heh, yeah. Hey...You know, that new kid, Jack?" Mark brought up, and Jack felt himself freeze. Oh shit oh shit oh shit he was caught he was caught he was cau--

"I thought his name was Sean?" Tyler question, putting on his normal T-shirt and bending down to wiggle out of the tight fitted pants. At that moment, Jack was so glad he was short to the point that he couldn't see past their torso. 

"Uh, yeah, told me he liked being called Jack though." Mark trailed off, before humming. 

"What about him?"

"He told me he skated." Mark said, and Jack felt heat rush to his face at the fact that Mark somehow remembered that. He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, as Tyler glanced at him. "You think he plays hockey?" Whatever breath Jack was holding released instantly.

"Nah, he's too petite for that." The other boy replied, as he grabbed his glasses and beanie, and put them on. "Never know, maybe he just does it for fun. I don't see him as a competitive type." Tyler went on, and Jack just wanted to yell 'If only you knew!'

"You're probably right. I'll probably ask him about it tomorrow, though." Mark went on, before yelping, and Jack froze as he heard a loud thud.

Did he just....trip? 

If he wasn't so terrified, he would have burst into hysterics. 

"Shit, I'm okay." Mark huffed, jumping to his feet, and from the angle Jack was in, it was almost comical how he sprung back up. Tyler chuckled, and Mark threw his sweaty jersey at him, before he went back to tugging his shirt over his head and shoving his glasses back onto his face. Tyler snorted, throwing the jersey back so it his Mark square in the face, knocking his glasses clean off. Mark yelled, grabbing his jersey from his face, but Tyler was already out the door. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mark!" Tyler yelled, before going out of sight.

"Asshole!" Mark yelled back, before sighing. He threw his Jersey into his locker, silence filling the room to the point that Jack didn't want to breathe unless he risk getting caught. He lifted his chin again, allowing his breathing to quiet down, as he closed his eyes only to hear his heartbeat race in his ears. His eyes startled open when a locker slammed shut, Mark picked his glasses off the ground, and slung his bag over his shoulder before heading towards the door. Jack sighed in relief, though the second he did, Mark froze at the door.

Brown eyes slowly scanned the room, a hand on the doorway, and after what felt like minutes, he exited, flipping off the light as he did so.

Silence.

Jack felt his knees wobble, and he didn't risk moving a single inch, as he counted down slowly from ten. Slowly, deliberately, Jack opened the locker, wincing as the loud creak it made in the dark room. He heard a slam, and he assumed that was Mark leaving the building, and relief washed over his entire body as he slipped out of the locker. He bent down, grabbing his bag from behind the vending machine, and bolted towards the door to exit the locker room.

Blue eyes peered from around the corner, before slowly creeping over towards the door leading to the main lobby, and Jack crouched down low before slowly bringing his head up to peer through the window. He let out the breath he was holding when he saw it was empty, and before he knew it--he was laughing.

"Shite, that was close." He said to himself, giggling softly. He actually managed to slip through, undetected, and honestly? That felt great. He grinned to himself, before his attention drew down the hallway, where he pivoted on his foot and headed straight towards the rink, wasting no time in lacing up his skates nice and tight. The cap and the bag were off of him in an instant, and Jack stood steadily on the two blades, stepping quickly into the rink as he pushed off the wall and--wow...

The rink was huge. Definitely, bigger once you got in, than when you peered in through the looking glass. He pushed forward, stumbling slightly when his foot caught a bit on the ice, and he looked down and noticed just how beat up it was from the scramble Mark and Tyler had earlier. He nodded his head, knitting his brows, before looking ahead.

First thing's first, perimeter check. Jack slowly skated along the walls, measuring out the distance in his head, as he took note of the ice along the way. Mark and Tyler, apparently, mainly scuffled on one side, leaving the other side relatively smoothed out and clean. He nodded his head, working his mind around the circumstances, as he finished his little lap and stood in the center for a long moment. 

It looked as thought it were seventy five feet wide, and one hundred and eighty feet long. Shorter than the official Olympic rink, though amazingly massive compared to normal ice-skating rinks. He nodded his head to himself, chewing the inside of his cheek as he worked the math in his head, though struggling with it for a long moment. His attention turned back to his bag, as he quickly glided over to the opening he came out of, managing to snatch his bag without stepping down onto the rubber floor.

"Shit...Did I pack it?" He grunted, rummaging through his bag a long moment, before laughing out an 'ah ha!' as he pulled out the portable speaker he always carried with him to his practices. He grinned to himself, plugging in his phone as he set the speaker down onto the bench.

Well, since nobody was here, he had turned it up to max volume so he would be able to go through his practice easily.

He took his phone out from his pocket, pushing off the wall and gliding backwards as he shuffled through his playlist. 

There was a fine line between what he would play with his coach speculating, than what he would play when he were alone--and his playlists completely reflected that. He scrolled through his songs a moment, chewing his lip, before grumbling to himself. He skated back towards the opening, hitting 'shuffle' before tossing his phone onto his bag. It lagged for a moment, just enough time for Jack to reach the center of the rink again, before the music kicked in.

Crazy=Genius, Panic! at the disco. Well, his fault for hitting shuffle. Jack snorted to himself, listening to the music for a long moment, before breaking off into a fast pace.

He didn't show off, or do any tricks in the beginning, he only reviewed what he already know. He brought his arms above his head, bringing his heels together before spreading them apart, gliding in a line across the rink before circling together in one swift motion. He chewed his lips, doing his best to get into the motion of the music by the time the second chorus came in.

'She said darling you know..'

He quickly skated forward, clicking his heels together before doing a quick dance, testing his footwork. He clicked his toes against the ground to the beat, hitting the beat each time, before bringing his heel back harshly, moving his hand above the head before his whole body moved forward as he went into a quick spin with the music before breaking off, right as the music kicked up.

'And I said, hey, hey!' His feet clicked against the ice, as he landed a quick triple axle, and at the second 'hey', he managed to squeeze in a double toe-loop. At this point, he was already backwards, so he picked up speed before kicking his heel off the ground. His leg went into a wide arch in the air, twice, three times, before he kicked off the ground, landing on the opposite foot and spinning quickly in circles. 

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey!)  
I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)  
(Hey ay, ay)

He smirked, holding his arms out for balance as he quickly pivoted on his foot, once, twice, right along the 'ay', holding his other leg in a right angle from his hips. He then broke off, gaining speed before attempting the splits mid-air. His legs didn't go as far up as he wanted, causing Jack to stumble a bit, but he quickly recovered as he skated forward. 

If crazy equals genius!  
You can set yourself on fire!

Jack brought himself in for a spin, crouching down low and bringing one knee to his chest, his other leg stretched out and gliding across the ice as he spun in quick circles. He then grabbed the edge of his blade, laughing with the music as he felt all the tension leave his body, and he pulled his foot to the top of his head before releasing it. He brought his hands up, pulling them towards his chest quickly before using them to help him turn in a circle, as an instrumental broke off and he found himself dancing along with it--well, dancing on ice at least. He kicked his leg one in front of the other, rocking his hips and bringing his right forward, back, then kicking off, twisting his hips forward and back.

He was practically breathless by the time his song was over, giggling to himself, as another Panic! song came on. House of Memories.

"Jesus, are you trying to make me emo, phone!" He called out, though he had practiced more with this one. He glided across the ice, smiling as the music kicked into gear. 

'If you're a lover you should know, the lonely moments just get lonelier, the longer you're in love, than if you were alone.'

He brought his hands towards his chest, before pushing out, skating backwards before bringing his body tightly together, crouching down to gain speed as he brought his arms to his side for balance. He brought his hand to his face, pausing in the middle of the rink, before spinning in a circle with his legs spread out, smiling to himself.

'Heart to heart and eyes to eyes...Is this taboo...?'

He quickly kicked up the pace, grinning as the music slowly build up, Brendon Urie's voice filling the empty rink. 

'Baby we built this house, on Memories. Take my picture now, shake it 'til you see it--' Jack suddenly kicked off the ground, bringing his arms tightly to his chest as he spun one, two three, four times before touching down. '--And when your fantasies--' He jumped again, a triple toe loop '--become your legacies, promise me a place.. in your house of memories!.'

He balanced quickly on one foot, skating backwards with one leg in the air, arms outstretched as if he were at performing in front of a group of people, before quickly spinning, gliding across the rink in a flash. He turned so he skated forward, as the next chorus came up. He spun in a circle, before kicking his leg out, making his raised leg parallel to his torso as he made a 'T' with his body. He broke out of that, spinning onto his foot, ready to kick off the ground and continue, when the music suddenly cut off.

"Jesus, you know, I never got the emo vibe from you."

Jack skidded to a sudden stop, eyes widening as he suddenly whipped around.

Who other than Mark Fischbach would be standing next to his bag with Jack's phone in his hand? All the color instantly drained from his face, as Jack opened and closed his mouth, making an expression similar to a fish's as Mark tossed the phone onto his bag, the rink suddenly forced into a tense silence, which slowly drew out to an even longer, awkward silence. Jack's face was so red, he was scared his brain would fry, or that the ice would instantly melt around him, and he felt himself stare at the Hockey player for who knows how long.

"You were pretty into it. Where'd you learn?" Mark asked, plopping down onto the bench. Jack carefully skated over, almost tripping over his two feet as his heart nearly lept out of his chest. How would he answer? He took deep breaths, resisting the urge to cover his face as he rested his hands onto the rink's edge. Don't blow it..

"Uh. M-my Ma, was really into it?" His voice squeaked at the end, causing it to sound like a question, and Jack covered it with a swift cough to the elbow as he cleared his throat. "Yeah, haha." He cleared his throat. "Um, I took lessons since I was five. Been meaning to, uh, get into the big leagues?" Oh god, what a fucking lie. 

"Calm down, you look like you're gonna explode with how red your face is." Mark commented, seeming unfazed from Jack's comments. "How come you've never competed? My whole family is huge on Ice skating, never saw you before." Mark grinned, leaving forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Oh god, oh god, how is he so casual about this? He could hear his coach shrieking from here, and could imagine the slap up-top the head he'd receive if he fucked this up right now.

"Oh, no, I'm not big on crowds." Jack waved off, coughing again. "They uh, terrify me. I can't even handle four people watching me, much less....thousands." He swallowed thickly at another lie. Pressure was building up in his chest as he broke out into a horrid sweat, hands clamming up. 

"Thousands? Jesus, how big are we talk--"

"Pleasedon'ttellanyoneaboutthisohmyGODD!!" Jack blurted, before he squeaked and brought a hand up to his mouth to effectively shut himself off. Mark stared at him with wide eyes from the sudden outburst.

Then he chuckled, trying to hold back his laughter, and Jack nervously laughed along despite the fact his eyes screamed 'kill me now.' 

"Jesus, who would I tell? If you reacted this bad just to me being here, then I know you wouldn't survive if anyone else found out. Your secret's safe." 

"S...so you mean...no one will find out that I-I'm--"

"Amazing at skating?"

Septic. 

He almost fucking said it, and the relief he felt made him want to start sobbing on the spot as his shoulders slumped and the breath he didn't know he had held. "Yeah, I guess." Jack said, feeling himself smile stupidly. 

"Though, really, it's not people knowing would kill you. I mean, what was it you landed...a triple toe thing?"

"Quadruple Axle, four spins in the air, landed steadily with my foot forwards." Jack clarified, causing Mark to raise his eyebrow. Jack felt the familiar dizzy feeling come back as a blush crept to his face.

"Okay, Mister Technicalities." Mark chuckled, before getting to his feet. Jack's eyes lingered on Mark as he walked over to one of the other benches, and bent down to pick up his water bottle. He placed it into his bag, before slinging it over his shoulder, and Jack realized that was the reason he was here. 

God, if Jack would have been more observant, he wouldn't have been caught red-handed. 

"Hey, tomorrow, meet me under the oak in the quad during lunch. Figured you might not know where the gym is." Mark brought up, walking past him as he made his way to the door, leaving Jack to stand there, dumb struck and light-headed. 

He didn't know what urged him to speak up. 

"Turn your blade." 

Mark paused near the exit, and if Jack could slap him hard across the face, he would. Immediately. Hard enough to knock him unconscious. Hard enough to slap the stupidity outta himself. Slowly, Mark turned around, eyebrows knit as if he were either thinking hard, or he were very confused.

"Sorry, huh?"

Idiot Idiot Idiot Idiot Idiot--!!

"When you want to effectively stop yourself from being knocked backwards," Jack spoke slowly, his ears turning red, "turn the blade of your non dominant foot, and put your weight onto it, dominant leg forward. Pretend it's like you're suddenly turning left or right..." Mark's eyes narrowed, and Jack startled himself into speaking more, raising his hands in front of him as if to defend himself. "The blunt of the force will go into your foot, and it'll dig into the ice!" He yelped.

"What are you..?"

"I saw you and Tyler practicing. I had come here to practice, myself, but I sorta...hid myself in the bleachers the last two minutes you were on the ice." Leave out the locker room. "You had your blades facing Tyler, so your momentum carried you into falling." He clarified. Oh god, he wanted to kill himself.

Mark stood there, shock written all over his face. Jack held his breath. Slapping himself felt perfect at this moment. Mark recovered, shoulders relaxing as he brought a hand to run through his hair. He looked back at Jack, before sighing and turning on his foot.

"See you tomorrow."

\----

Three weeks had passed since the incident. And since then, the encounter was never brought up, even when they were alone studying or what-not. Jack had worked it around his schedule to arrive after he knew Mark had left the rink, purposefully avoiding any more encounters similar to before. During of which, his Coach, aka his ma, decided to supervise him at all costs to make sure his 'identity remain a close secret.' 

Needless to say, he was miserable, though he did a damned good job in hiding it.

Lunch drew around, and Jack carried his lunch tray with him out of the cafeteria. Thankfully, after the three weeks, he didn't get any more sideways glances or odd stares, which had filled him with relief. Too much stress would have weighed on him. Occasionally, he would get a small jab about being Irish, but Jack would play it off with a smile and sometimes even quoted Irish sayings in a thick Irish accent, just to play along with whatever joke people said. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, he thought with a lighter heart than what he originally would have reacted with.

He was the first to make it to the table, which was saying something. Jack set his tray down, humming to himself as he looked down at the cafeteria pizza.

"Those things taste like cardboard." A familiar voice said, and Jack looked up as Ethan plopped down next to him.

"Says the man eating one as well." Jack countered, elbowing him lightly, in which Ethan slapped away with the grin. Blue eyes then glanced around, followed by knit eyebrows.

"Where's Mark and Tyler? Aren't they always the first one's here?" Jack asked Ethan, and Ethan glanced over, unfazed by his question. He waved his head, though with complete seriousness, spoke one phrase.

"Weight-training."

"Weight-training?"

"It's an optional class. Once you complete your two years of P.E, you can choose to keep on taking any physical activities. There's P.E two, Dance, and Weight Training. Tyler and Mark," He sighed, rolling his eyes as he brought his elbows onto the table, "Both took it. It's an easy way to keep track of your weight, hence the name. Its a fucking nightmarish hell. Half the guys there are hella macho body builders on steroids." He spoke in such a way, that Jack's face paled, and he slowly leaned forward.

"Wait, ye serious?" He asked in a whisper.

"Hell yeah! They have these hellish fitness days on Wednesday...which is today... and they do all sorts of bullshit. Sprinting laps, overpowered suicides, two hundred jumping jacks followed by wall sits. I've seen a man bench press three times my body weight." Ethan explained, leaning in and looking Jack dead in the eyes as he held up three fingers. "Three."

Jack swallowed thickly. And he thought his training was bad...

"Suicides?" He asked after a moment of thought, and Ethan stared at him in confusion before nodding his head.

"Imagine four lines, about five yards apart, all labeled one through four. Where you're at is 'back'. You have to run to line one, then back. Next one is to line one, back, then line two, and back. Then you go one back, two back, then three back. And it continued." Jack frowned. That's what they're called? He did a lot of those, though that involved skating. 

"That seems..."

"Easy, I know. But get this. For weight training, it's like a station for each line. When you start, fifty squats. Line one is lets say, fifty push-ups, then fifty burpees, so forth." He explained, and Jack didn't want to know what the hell a burpee was. He shuddered slightly. "Usually, they also finish it off by a cardio burnout. Do some stupid shit. Like hold your arms out in front of you for three minutes, or a hella long wall sit followed by however many laps is assigned. I don't know how Mark and Tyler do it."

"Talking about us, are you?" Mark's voice rang out, and Jack looked up as Mark sat down across from him, followed by Tyler. Both boys were sweaty, their hair damp from what Jack assumed was either sweat, or dumping water on their heads. Tyler's face was pretty red, and sweat glistened his skin, however Mark's skin tone didn't change all that much. Despite everything, though, Tyler looked unfazed. Mark looked like hell.

"Er, you okay? You don't look so good..." Jack offered, trailing off when Mark met Jack's gaze, and his heart lept to this throat. _Dear god, don't look at me like that..._ he thought to himself, swallowing thickly as he watched a droplet of sweat trail down Mark's jawline, before falling down his neck and dripping into his hoodie. His eyes snapped back to Mark as he made an audible gulp.

"We had a military officer come in to train us." Tyler said, and that was enough to let both him and Ethan know how bad it must've been. American Military is insane.

Jack thought for a moment, before rolling the water bottle he got with his lunch towards his seemingly dying friend. Mark grabbed it almost immediately, uncapping it and chugging it.

He totally didn't stare at Mark's jawline when he lifted his chin up, and definitely didn't watch his adam's apple bob with each gulp. Jack felt his ears turn red, as he immediately shifted his gaze towards Tyler. "So, uh. How come you're not..." Dead?

Tyler chewed his lip before chuckling, elbowing Mark and causing the poor guy to nearly choke on his water. "Unlike somebody, I train everyday at both the gym and the rink." Tyler said, causing Mark to scowl with puffed cheeks. Mark swallowed his water, folding his arms.

"Uh-huh. IIIIII'm Tyler and I'm a fitness beast!" Mark mocked, flexing his arm muscles. Ethan chimed in.

"IIIII'M TYLER and I can bench-press everyone!" Ethan flexed as well, jumping up in his seat.

"IIIIIII''m Tyler and I'm so buff!" Mark hopped onto his seat, flexing his arms and making his voice extra deep.

Was this an inside joke? Jack found himself giving a clueless smiling as some people walking by stopped to look at the display. Jack's ears went red again, though he found himself laughing along with everyone at their table. Speaking of table...Bob showed up, dropping his tray down, followed by a Wade by his side.

"Jesus, not this again." Wade complained, and Mark found himself giggling into hysterics.

"Oh hey! Congrats, Mark. I saw you at the game." Bob brought up, grinning as he took a bite out of a piss-looking salad from the Salad bar at school. Whether it was good or not, didn't show on Bob's face, however Jack tilted his head as he leaned forward.

"Wait, game?" Jack asked, and all eyes turned on him. Ethan was the first to speak up, bringing his elbows on the table after he sat back down, as he leaned forward excitedly as if he were a kid telling some big story.

"Yeah, first hockey game of the season." Mark's face flushed with color, as he picked at the contents of his sandwich bashfully. "Mark was defendin the goal, you know, the normal hockey playout. Pretty bummed that he didn't get to be on offense. 

"Wait, sorry, I'm confused. If you're bummed that he didn't get to be in offense....why are you congratulatin' him?" Jack asked Bob.

Bob frowned, and Jack realized how rude that must've sounded. He quickly opened his eyes to say more, but Tyler intervened.

"Well, Mark's defense is relatively shit. He always got knocked on his ass." He said, taking a bite out of some soup he had in a canteen. With a mouth full of food, he continued with a fist over his mouth. "But today, he really showed the other team." 

Jack tilted his head in confusion, looking at Mark for an explanation--which Bob quickly gave.

"The 'Star of Willboar', aka our team's worst nightmare when it comes to facing off against that school..." Bob grinned, thumping Mark on the back. "Got knocked on his ASS after ramming into this guy." 

At that, Mark looked up at Jack, giving him a knowing look and a shy smile.

And Jack?

Jack couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, i feel like i owe an explanation.
> 
> I'm gonna be leaving on a trip tomorrow, so I won't be able to update at all. So here's a quick fill in, I'll hopefully be back before school starts up again for me, so keep a look out within the next week!
> 
> Also! The iceskating scene is purposefully hard to play out in your head. This is purposeful. It's supposed to give a vague idea of what he was doing, and it's more off beat and rushed, because hey. Jack doesn't have a choreography to those songs, so he's making shit up as he goes, lmao. Sorry for any other parts that seem weird!


	3. Reschedule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just your average teenage secrets.

"....five, six, seven eight!"

Jack pushed off from the wall of the rink, bringing his hands towards his chest dramatically as the music started up. He spun on his foot, before shooting his hands out, then back in, bending his entire body as if a force was pulling at his entire being. Then, the music suddenly slows, and Jack finds himself quickly relaxing and looking around in wonder--before the music startles, and he finds himself skating across the rink rapidly before--

"Up!" A voice barked, and Jack kicked off the ground, bringing his hands close to his chest as he landed a triple axle. He landed smoothly, gracefully some might say, as he looked over his shoulders with his hands up as he glided backwards with a leg in the air. The music slowed again, causing him to suddenly bring down his leg to clink against the ice, stopping him dead in his tracks as he looked dramatically towards the 'audience', and he turned again, spinning outwards as he made his way around the rink. The music slowly crept up, steadily and steadily, and Jack crouched low to the ground as he used his hands to balance himself out. The music rushed through his chest, pumping through his veins, and he looked up towards the sky and--

He felt like a moron.

"You're supposed to go into your sequence." The voice scolded, and Jack sighed, slowly spinning in a circle to face his Ma. His Pa paused the music, looking up sheepishly as his wife folded his arms. Oh..boy...

"I'm sorry ma, It's just." He gestured towards the rink, to the wide space around him, as if that provided an explanation. His mother quirked an eyebrow as he waved his arms about some more, as he tried to think up of an explanation. "I can't get with...with this music! I feel stupid!" Jack complained, hands dropping to his side as he stared at his mother with pleading eyes. The woman huffed, folding her arms.

"We've picked this song out a month prior. Why the sudden change?" His mother question, the stern tone leaving her voice. Jack skated over, coming to a stop so he can rest his elbows on the railing. Really, his ma did have a point...but the truth was...

"I was nervous to tell you before hand." He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking up at his Ma through his eyelashes as he shrunk down a bit.

"If there's something wrong with it, you should tell me. You know this." His mother hummed, all fight leaving her body as he patted him on the shoulders. "The Interview's tomorrow. We're focusing on Relation for the theme, remember? " Jack flinched physically, and his mom narrowed his eyes. "What, that too?"

"I-its just. It's not. It's not me, Ma." He hummed, not wanting to fight with her as he shrunk his shoulder's lower. "All of this. I haven't been comfortable with." He bit the inside of his cheek harshly as he tried to choose his words carefully.

"You do realize we have to change our entire schedule, right? To make an entire new choreography, to perfect your fluidity, to make sure you even find a song that suits your...taste." Blue eyes looked up as she spoke the last works with hesitation. She didn't sound...mad. Just disappointed. That also wasn't a no. He slowly stood up a little more, eyebrows knitting.

"I can do it. I just need more practice time. And besides. Like you said, we're only a month into the choreography. I redo it, please give me a chance!" Jack practically bounced on the ice, which nearly resulted him in falling--he caught himself--, and blue eyes stared pleadingly into brown. They locked gazes for a long moment, before slowly, he watched as his mother crumbled into defeat.

"Fine."

Jack grinned, pumping his fists into the air, before his mother held up a hand. "But!" She warned him, pressing her hand into his chest and pushing him backwards gently. He swatted her hand playfully, all nervousness having drained from his body and being replaced with relief.

"Once you choose your theme, there's no going back. I won't babysit you through this. You'll be an adult next year, and your career will be in your hands from then on." His mother warned him, and Jack was quick to click his heels together, standing full attention. "I'm giving you a month to get a song." At that, Jack opened his mouth to interject, but she placed a hand over her son's mouth to effectively silence him. "If you don't have it to match your theme, we're going back to my way." She warned him, playful demeanor set aside as she stared her son in the eyes. Jack's eyes were wide, and when she dropped her hand from his mouth, he nodded his head vigorously. "And for the love of God, Sean, don't get us CopyRighted."

Jack's skates were off in a flash after putting the sheathes on the blades, and he stood with a straight back and a deep scowl as he saluted his mother. She chuckled, shoving him slightly, and he grinned as he skidded a bit and used his momentum to pick up his bags in one hand, and both shoes in the other. With that, he beelined for the car, a shout of "Sean McLoughin, you put your shoes on! following after him, but he pretended he was out of earshot as he booked it outside.

He was bouncing on his seat the whole way home, and his mother wore an expression as if she regretted her decision.

Practice usually takes him up all the way towards midnight, and by the time he got home and checked his phone, he had one missed call from Ethan and a few messages from a group chat he had been added to. He flopped onto his bed, bringing the phone towards his face as he instantly muted the group chat, before checking his normal messages. He chewed his lip, before shooting a quick text towards Mark.

'hey'

Truthfully, he expected the other boy to be asleep. When he got no reply within five minutes, Jack started typing again.

'know any good music for competition? professional type of music'

That sounded decent, right? He found himself fretting over what to type, reading over what he had said a few more times before switching back to his home screen. He clicked his phone icon, muttering to himself before clicking on the call button. He plugged his headphones in, making sure the mic worked, ready to click the button to leave a message when a groggy voice filled the other end.

"WhAssapT?"

....  
What?

Jack frowned, falling into a short lasted silence. "Uh....Ethan?" He asked.

"Whassup?" The voice became more clear, as he could hear shuffling on the other end. Jack quickly turned down the volume before his ears screamed murder.

"You called earlier, I should be askin' you that."

"...........oh"

"Yeah, 'oh'." Jack repeated, and Ethan yawned on the other end, shuffling from where he assumed he lay in bed. A silence filled the air, and Jack seriously debated on hanging up so the other could get some rest.

"...Oh yeah." Ethan quirked up, and Jack rested his phone onto his abdomen, one arm over his head as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. "Hussah, Merk's gon be playin next Friday against the Beatles." Jack knit his eyebrow, and opened his mouth to speak, but Ethan cut him off. "No, I know what you're gonna say, not _The Beatles_ , I mean that highschool team, ya dummy." Jack's mouth closed with a snap.

"oh...."

"Wanna go together?" Ethan asked. Jack blinked a few times, before slowly sitting up.

"Heh?" He asked stupidly, straining his accent.

"Wanna come with me?"

".....heh?!" He strained more, and Ethan groaned.

"Oh, my god, you shithead, wanna go out?"

.....

.....

Jack had opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, and he was left there looking like an idiot with his jaw to the floor.

Wait. What?

"Platonically!" Ethan chimed in. "I got my eyes set on someone else, tough guy, don't go flattering yourself." At that, Jack physically relaxed, laying back down onto his bed as he felt a stupid grin make way to his face.

"What? So, I won't get you all dressed up with Roses at my doorstep?!" Jack whined, causing Ethan to snort, and they both concluded they were too tired to joke around at this point. "I'm heartbroken, really. Though I have a problem, I actually wont be able to get a ride."

"Don't fret yourself too much, my young Irish laddie. Ty, Mark and I always carpool together to these things. We can pick you up." Jack nodded his head slowly, knitting his eyebrows as he lifted his phone up and hit the home button. He checked his calendar, asking what time it would be at. "Three thirty, we meet up after school te go me matey!"

"Oh god, Racist much?"

"Everythin's racist to ye!"

"You're not a pirate, shove a peg up your ass." The retort was immediate, causing Ethan to snort into laughter. "You're damned lucky I don't have to do anything until six. I'll text you my address.

"Aye Aye, Captain!"

Oh god, Ethan was delusional when he was sleep deprived. He groaned to himself, rubbing his eyes as a notification rang in his ears--literally. He clicked it, peering at the message from Mark.

'Ask Ethan, he's the music expert.'

How convenient.

"Hey Ethan?" Jack spoke up after a moment of extended silence. Ethan made a tired grunt in reply, and he took that as a quick opportunity to continue before the other hung up on him. "You wouldn't happen to have a good taste in music, would you?"

\----

Mark's day wasn't all that great.

There were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, the anticipation for the next came bearing down onto him, not to mention the Essay that Mrs. Davis assigned was written (sloppily) and placed into his bag for Sixth period. His first three teachers decided to call on him for answers, since he had spent so much time zoning out due to his tiredness, and he had managed to give them half assed answers enough to wear down his participation points.

Especially, his third period teacher, Mr. Hendrick. He had decided to test Mark for some ungodly reason on how well he could solve algebraic equations.

Now, Mark didn't exactly like to boast about his abilities, but when it comes to mathematics, he aced through it. It was the one class where he felt like he had a guaranteed success in it, which followed along with his career plan if he didn't make it as a hockey player. Engineering. Not only was he in Advanced Algebra with Mr. Hendrick, he was in an Engineering class for fifth period by a kinder teacher named Mrs. Smith, who pushed him to the limits in a kinder way.

He didn't know what Mr. Hendrick's problem with Mark was, anyways, so he solved a few of the problems his brooding teacher had written onto the board, and Mark solved it without question. That took up at least half of the period, as the equations relatively got more harder as more time went on, and by the end of the period Mark felt annoyance nipping at the back of his neck, causing his eyebrows to furrow and shoulders to tense as he bolted out of the class.

He could take his anger out in the weight room, anyways. He took a deep breath, before relaxing his shoulders as he made his way towards the gym, pausing outside of the Art Room to discretely peer inside.

Not because it was Jack's class, he told himself, but because he liked what the art teacher, Mr. Frazier, does with the room. Today, there was an obvious room change, and he stepped to the side as people came through and peered at the ceiling. Mini buildings were formed out of cardboard, and hung upside down after being...stapled?... to the ceiling. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, before brown eyes found Jack's seat, which was empty.

Huh.

Jack was usually there pretty early, always there before Mark would walk by, and he found his eyebrows scrunching together before he stepped out of the room when he spotted Mr.Frazier. He slipped into the hallway and jogged over to the gym.

\----

"Oh my god oh my god GUYS!"

Mark looked up from where he sat at the lunch table, muscles aching at having taking all of his anger out on the benchpress. Tyler sat up a little straighter next to him, and Mark watched as Ethan came to a stop, panting as if he ran all the way here as he doubled over onto his knees.

"Jesus, you okay dude? You look like you ran--" Mark began.

"Septic is back!" Ethan wheezed out, looking like a kid with how his eyes sparked in excitement. Mark felt his shoulders cave in a little, trying his best to act interested, but in reality he was holding back a scowl. Damn...he just wanted to get away from that name for as long as he could. Of course, it was impossible, since Ethan was a die-hard fan of figure skating--even though he witnessed Ethan fall on his ass more than once on the ice. Ethan brought out his phone after setting his lunch tray down, before showing the screen to Mark and Tyler.

Mark felt his stomach twist as, as Ethan said, Septic sat down at the head of the panel with the same old black mask resting resting on his nose, other skaters on both sides as interviewers were blaring questions at him. He looked....uncomfortable, Mark noticed, and he felt a snort rise to his throat. 'Huh, not so fun now, is it?' He felt himself mock as Septic got interrupted by his Coach, an older, scary looking woman, and Mark frowned since he couldn't hear what was being said due to the volume being too low.

"Ethan, turn it up." Tyler said, as Bob sat down to join the others. Ethan did as he was told, turning it up right as Septic was asked about his theme....wait, theme?

Septic looked into the camera, jaw setting and eyebrows furrowed, as he spoke in a deep voice. "My theme will be based off of mischief." He answered smoothly, and Mark quirked an eyebrows, however found himself curious not enough to turn away.

"Mischief?" A reporter echoed, and the woman knit her eyebrows in confusion. "Why Mischief?" She then questioned, as if she read Mark's mind on the subject. Septic seemed to hesitate, as if he didn't expect to be questioned on it, and Mark found himself resting his elbows on the table as he leaned in a little closer.

"Well." Septic started, speaking slowly as if he were choosing his words carefully. "It's more suited for someone like me." He recovered, winking in the camera, and Tyler made a gagging noise before Ethan swatted his shoulder. "I find it unsuitable to pick the obvious choices. With Mischief, you have to keep on your toes. You won't know what's next." He finished with a nod of his head, and the reporters were quick to retaliate and demand more questions. Mark couldn't catch half of it, before Jack held up his hands as if to try and tone it down. Finally, one clearer voice rang out.

"What are your plans for the Junior Nationals? After your last attempt at winning gold in this--", Mark pretended he didn't see Septic wince, "Do you have another strategy."

Jack set his jaw, as if swallowing his obvious growing discomfort that made Bob look over at the screen.

"My plan is to win gold and then qualify for the Olympics." Septic replied smoothly, looking into the camera that was filming the entire thing, and with that, the video ended. Mark looked down at the bottom corner of the screen, noticing the time that read '8:57'. Ethan pulled back his phone after sitting down, putting it in his pocket as Wade finally showed up.

"So, Mister seduction is making a comeback." Tyler noted, biting into a Salad that was noticeably bought outside of school, since it actually looked good. He chewed for a good moment, before adding, "That was weird. Mischief? Never would have gotten that from someone else." He noted, and Mark thought for a moment.

"I didn't know there were themes for Figure Skating." He commented, and Ethan looked up, not even surprised at this point. Everyone knew Mark wasn't that big on the other sport.

"Yeah, normally you make a choreography based off of the theme you select." Ethan chirped, biting into his Pizza. "Your music for the competition should match the theme, and you have to represent it well. It helps for points."

_know any good music for competition? professional type of music_

A frown graced Mark's lips, as he remembered what Jack had texted him last night. Speaking of Jack...

"Hey, has anyone seen Jack today?" He brought up, for a change of subject. Ethan shook his head, telling him that he wasn't in his class today, and Bob admitted he didn't see him enter his class.

"Maybe he's out sick or something." Wade suggested, not having picked at an inch of his food, and Tyler was apparently the first to notice this.

"Wade, buddy, you okay?" He asked, after tossing the rest of his lunch in the trash behind him. Wade stared down at his food with a blank expression, causing Mark to nudge his shoulder in concern. "I...uh." Wade muttered, clearing his throat a bit and swallowing hard, as he broke out into a sweat. "I might've...uh...asked...Imight'veaskedMollyout." He ducked his head, placing his hand behind his neck as the table practically exploded.

"You WHAT?!" Mark shot to his feet, leaning forward and grabbing Wade's shoulders.

"Woah woah woah!" Bob waved his hand, eyes wide behind his glasses as he leaned forward.

Ethan just looked confused. "What?"

"Oh god, what possessed you?!" Tyler asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

Wade looked like he wanted to run away at that exact moment. He leaned far away from everyone else, face beat-red as he stammered. "I-I was under pressure! Ethan told me how he invited Jack to the hockey game, and my brain kinda farted and after class i asked her if she wanted to go with me--"

Ethan frowned, before nodding, remembering the encounter before Wade bolted off. "Asked is an understatement. He screamed it...kinda terrifying, really." Ethan recalled, shrugging his shoulders. "What's the big deal about it, though?"

"The big deal?" Mark repeated, jaw dropping. "The big deal's that Wade's been into Molly since **middle school** " He emphasized by waving his hands in the air. "She's like, crazy popular and everything! Head of the cheerleading team, its the stereotype!" It was almost like the plot of a movie, really. The shy nerd has a total crush on the untouchable cheerleader, before getting totally.....rejected....Mark's expression hardened at that thought.

"So, what'd she say?" Bob prompted. Wade looked down, face getting redder if possible, as he muttered the answer under his breath. "Jesus, man, spit it out." Bob encouraged, leaning forward in anticipation, as Wade looked up with an audible gulp.

"She said Yes."

\----

Mark couldn't get over the happy, fluttery feeling in his chest as he thought about what happened at lunch. The only thing he could explain it was how proud he _actually_ was at Wade. He'd known him for too long not to be, and the fact that he had managed to bring up the courage was completely beyond him. He almost forgot about Septic.

Almost.

It was the talk of the school, and Mark did his best to ignore it, but by the time sixth period came, whatever proud feeling he had, left. His expression remained neutral, though annoyance was seeping into the back of his skull, and the only question he could think of was 'What's so special about this Septic guy?'. He was arrogant, and a total player on ice, and people loved him for it.

It just rubbed him the wrong way when he saw his mother and Thomas fawn all over some guy who doesn't even _know_ or care who they are. It irked him to no end when Septic was the one skater was the only skater Ethan talked about, when he could easily choose a different celebrity crush on ice. It bugged him to no end that this skater was playing above everyone else, as if his stupid identity wasn't allowed to grace anyone, as if he were some big sensation that no one could stop talking about.

Well....he kind of was popular, wasn't he? Mark didn't want to admit it, but he found himself to be jealous of the 'Phenomenon of the Century' Septic. The internet practically adored him, and he was pretty sure this asshole had his own fandom run by girls who had nothing better to do. His expression turned sour, as he watched Mrs. Davis go to the front and explain the lesson about Emphasizing a Thesis, and when she called on people, she didn't call on Mark, and for that he was grateful for.

It was halfway through the period before Jack walked through the door.

The boy was practically a ball of energy, as he slipped through the door, missing his normal cap and wearing a nice hoodie and ripped jeans. Mark looked up from his half-written paper, feeling a smile grace his lips as he watched Jack hand in a late slip to Mrs Davis, before sitting down next to Mark and setting his messenger bag to the floor.

Something seemed...different. Instead of being normally quiet and shut in during school, Jack wore about an air of confidence Mark had only seen once, a few weeks ago, when he was skating in the rink and Mark had walked in on him in his own little world. A small smile graced Jack's lips, as he was quick to get out a sheet of paper, looking up at the board as he began answering the questions written down with a practically dead marker.

It was like he was a ball of sunshine, and Mark found himself curious as to why that was, though didn't bother interfering as he got back to his paper. He glanced over his shoulder, about to ask Tyler if he got one of the questions, when he noticed Ethan was staring, hard, at Jack, eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to figure something out, like Jack was some puzzle he was trying to solve, and Mark found himself frowning at his behavior.

Tyler noticed, too, since his scowl gave it away. Mark found himself chuckling, and Ethan startled out of his trance, blinking a few times in confusion as Mark turned back around.

Oh yeah. Tyler was definitely jealous. He just wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially Mark, who pried into Tyler's love life ore times than anyone could count. Mark managed to finish his paper, getting up from his seat about the same time Jack did, and Mark playfully scowled in Jack's direction at the fact that even though he was late to class, he _still_ managed to get done before Mark.

Jack smirked at Mark, causing heat to radiate off of Mark's skin as he hurriedly turned in his paper and sat down with a huff.

"Hey, Jack, where were you?" Ethan asked, after turning in his own paper, and Jack looked up before casually shrugging his shoulders.

"At the Doc's, had kinda sore throat last night" Jack replied, and Mark couldn't help but get the vague suspicion that he was lying. "'M all better though, and damned glad for it.

"Probably cause you're so loud." Mark jabbed at him, and Jack huffed, rolling his eyes in a playful demeanor and shaking his head.

"Uh huh, yeah, _I'm_ loud." Was the retort shot back at him. "I mean, have you even heard yourself when you get frustrated? I've never heard a man get so upset over spilling his food." A smirk went back onto Jack's lips, and Mark felt a bubbly feeling in his stomach at the simple shift in his expression.

Jesus, what was with him today?

"Oh come on, it was good food! Who was it who tripped me?" Mark demanded, leaning forward in his desk. Jack got up in his face, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"That was an accident and you know it!" Jack retorted, Irish accent thickening.

"Oh yeah, an accident, uh huh. Even though you were laughing into hysterics at my misery." A huff escaped Mark's lips as he sulked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back and away from Jack's face. Thank god, his face didn't get easily red, or else he would have been as red as a cherry at their proximity.

"Oh my god, come on! You were literally on the ground, staring at your food. How could someone not laugh at the face you made?" Jack quickly defended, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, you two get a room." Tyler spoke up, shooting a look at Jack that Mark didn't quite catch. Jack's expression flickered from his usual happy demeanor, but he didn't let it linger for more than a millisecond, as he shot a suggestive look at Mark and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ugh, as if! I'm not attracted to the Irish." Mark said, rolling his eyes as Jack placed a hand to his chest.

" _Racist!_ " Jack whined, mocking a hurt expression. "Te words of yer man hurts worse t'an a bullet to me chest." Ethan snorted from where he sat. Jack looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Is t'at funny to ye! I outta teach ye a lesson on manners!" Jack said thickly, raising from his seat, though Mark pushed him back down as Jack started laughing.

"Oh, hey!" Ethan started, grinning as he bent down to run through his bag. "I have the thing you were asking for last night, Jack." He emphasized 'thing', giving Jack a knowing look that left Mark a little confused. "I'll stop by at seven to give it to you."

Jack nodded his head, not saying anything as he took out his phone and typed something down, and Mark resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and stare at his phone.

Mark frowned a moment, thinking on what possibly Ethan could have for Jack, then he remembered the question Jack had texted him about music. That's probably what it was. He eased his shoulders a little bit, even though there was a jabbing sensation in his gut again, as he felt his hands getting a little clammy as they tapped on the desk.

Why did he suggest Ethan, anyways? He could have easily given Jack a suggestion by himself, right? He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, about to open his mouth, when the bell rang. He snapped it shut with a snap, clinking his teeth together as he got to his feet.

Tyler was out the door in an instant, causing all three friends to look up in question, though he didn't move to chase down his friend.

He had learned a long while ago, that when Tyler was in a bad mood, that he needed time to sort his feelings out. Ethan looked like he wanted to run after him, but Mark shook his head, telling him to wait until tomorrow before he slung his bag over his shoulders.

Man, practice against Tyler would be fun.

 

\----Special P.O.V----

Jesus, it was cold!

Ethan jogged through the rain, hoodie pulled up and over his head as he clutched his bag to his chest, cursing himself for not asking his dad for a ride, or even bringing his bike along with him. He didn't really know it was going to rain, he wasn't used to Washington weather despite having lived here for a year now, so when it was cloudy, he didn't expect that it would start raining out of the blue. His music blared in his ear, and even though Ethan had told Jack he would meet him at seven, he knew he would be early because of this.

He just wanted to get out of the rain at this point.

So when the Ice Rink came into view, Ethan nearly cried out in relief, as he pulled open the despite the sign saying 'closed', water dripping down into the carpet as Ethan realized he was practically _soaked._

Jack owed him. Big time.

He rummaged a hand through his backpack, checking to make sure that the CD didn't take any damaged, and sighed in relief when he noticed that it wasn't damaged in the slightest. He looked at his watch, taking note that it was fifteen minutes before they were supposed to meet, so Ethan took his time in taking off his jacket, and setting it on the bench to dry for a little bit, and then turned his attention towards the double-doors that lead to the rink.

He thought he heard..music? He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if Jack was already here, so he skeptically walked over, CD in his pale hands as he got on his toes in order to peek through the windows of the door. A figure was skating in the rink, along to a song Ethan thought he recognized, and as much as Ethan knew about 'unwanted audiences', he found himself slowly opening the door so it wouldn't alert the skater.

The muffled-music became clear as day the moment he got within earshot, and Ethan felt himself freeze when he instantly recognized his tune.

This was the song Septic skated to, last year during Junior Nationals.

But why would someone be skating to that?

He crept forward, peering through the glass when he heard the sound of blades against ice, as whoever it was practically melted into the music, hitting their toes to onto the ice as the chorus of the song came into play--sort of an Irish jig--and Ethan watched with steadily growing wonder and amazement when the person easily mimicked Septic's signature dance in that one.

He hit. Every. Beat.

The person spun in a circle, and Ethan wasn't able to get a clear focus on his face, but he recognized messy brown hair and...

Wait.

Ethan felt himself freeze where he was, as he watched the person do a quadruple axle. With insane preciseness. With a graceful landing and raised arms as he skated around the rink once more, just like a certain figure skater would, and Ethan found himself slowly inching his way forward.

Either this person was extremely good at mimicking people, or...

Oh my god.

Ethan suddenly couldn't bring himself to move, just standing there was a dropped jaw, watching as the person began to skate backwards, following the routine perfectly like Septic had...before he fell....because he attempted a--

Flip.

The person kicked off of the ground after a long amount of buildup, doing the splits mid-air as he went up-side-down, and Ethan felt an undignified squeak leave his mouth as the person actually, surprisingly, amazingly landed it. The boy managed to stay upright, though for a few second after landing the move as he lost his balance and skidded across the ice. Ethan immediately shot forward, blue eyes widened in alarm, before stopping in place when Jack slowly got to his feet, dusting shredded ice off of his pants.

Everything clicked into place, and Ethan let out a loud gasp, loud enough that Jack suddenly whipped around to face Ethan. Jack's expression went from a scowl, to a look of horror, and Ethan dropped the CD as he brought his hands up to his mouth.

"Oh my GOD!" Ethan said, blue eyes wide, as everything suddenly clicked into place--Why Jack came in late, why he needed music, why he had an air of confidence today, how he could mimic the entire choreography of Septic, because in a second of both horror and an absolute feeling of 'holy shit', Ethan brought a shaking hand up and pointed at Jack, who's face was as white as a sheet of paper.

It all made perfect sense.

"Septic?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So I haven't been able to do half the things I'm supposed to while I'm on 'vacation', bc I'm super sick, so I had a chance to stay home at the hotel while my Ma went out. Hence, a new chapter! Woo~~!
> 
> PS: If anyone has any suggestions to the story, or any requests, message me.   
> i'm open to suggestions, as long as they aren't too out there. :-) have a good day!


	4. Mixed Feelings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds himself struggling to get his emotions in check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Ao3 decided to clump all of my paragraphs together, no matter how much spacing I added. Lmao. I'm hoping this fixes, it's the third time I've tried posting! Sorry in advance if it doesn't fix, cause this is the last time I'm trying.

It took Jack an hour to calm down, and another to finally convince himself that Ethan would keep his mouth shut.

By the time he had gotten home, he was worn down, eyes drooping as frustration nipped at the back of his neck. His bedside creaked as he added his weight onto the sheets, and he rested his face in his hands, resisting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs and punch a hole in the wall.

How could he have been so _stupid?_ He had dug himself into that one, he could have waited like a normal person, instead of skating on the before his friend had showed up. He was careless, and it cost him to the fact that Ethan _knew_.

His friend had information on Jack that could literally ruin his life. His mind whirled as he took a few deep breaths, looking up at the door and focusing on the soft music emitting from his mother's room in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. Pale fingers tapped against the soft cushion underneath him, before he leaned back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind whirled.

What if anyone else found out? What if his location was discovered? He didn't want to ruin any relationships he built up. He didn't want to lose anyone close to him, after all. It's only been two months, but it felt like years until he's actually had people to call friends...but if they found out...oh god.

He didn't want to think about it, he really didn't want to think about it at this point.

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back on Mark and Tyler's bickering. About _him_. About how he was back, and how they had rolled their eyes and called him an asshole, or a hotshot, or an unnecessary hype. And each word, Jack couldn't help but flinch at, or feel like he was doing something wrong. He didn't want to be any of those things. He just wanted to get rid of the awkward Sean Mcloughlin, the one that they knew, and just be as confident as Septic is.

But he couldn't.

Because they hated septic.

His fingers curled around his blankets as he couldn't bring himself to hide under them, despite his freezing cold room. Blue eyes opened, as he stared up at the ceiling, expecting tears that just didn't come at this point. What if everyone disliked him when he revealed himself?

What if Mark stopped being his friend?

He couldn't stop his mind from wandering to the red-head, his goofy smile and his winks, and his flirtatious behavior that Jack found himself laughing along to. He saw Mark as being a clumsy, bubbly idiot at this point, but an endearing idiot that wanted what was best for everyone. Even though Jack found himself a mess at the first day, it was Mark who reached out to him, right? Because he...likes people.

And the thought of someone so kind, to look at him as an asshole? Jack bit his lip, groaning loudly before he roughly grabbed his phone, plugging in his headphones and putting them in his ears. He turned up his music, forcing himself to stop thinking about it as he relaxed into the music, easing backwards into his array of pillows.

It took an hour, but finally, his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and he couldn't bring himself to stay awake as he slowly drifted off...

\----

_"Septic?!"_

 

_Jack's blood had run cold, as he found himself stopped dead in his tracks, the music cutting off and leaving a chilling atmosphere in the rink. Ice pierced at his heart, as he stared into bright hazel eyes, paired with a dropped jaw that probably would have hit the floor if he hadn't brought hands to his mouth. Jack's throat constricted, and no words could describe the sudden dread that settled into his stomach, nor the weight on his shoulders, nor the chilling urge to run as fast as he can and hide away in a corner. Both boys stared at eachother, one looking excited, the other mortified._

_"Oh my shit! You're septic!" Ethan said, voice getting louder as he visibly began to tremble. The boy abruptly sat down onto the bench, as if he suddenly couldn't hold up his own weight, and Jack stood rooted to the spot, a million words rushing to his head and yet he couldn't utter a single sentence. So Jack just stood, like a deer in headlights, dumbstruck as he watched his friend process the information._

_"I...I can explain everythin'." Jack whispered stupidly, voice high pitched as he slowly skated backwards, as if to get away from everything. Instead of being angry, though, Ethan lunged to his feet, running towards the railing of the rink and causing Jack to stumble a bit._

" _Explain? Jesus! I've been friends with a celebrity!" The words jabbed at Jack's chest, and the change of expression must have been obvious to Ethan, as he quickly cleared his throat. "You..wait. Why here? You could've gone anywhere--"_

 _"It's outta te way?" Jack's accent was thick at this point, as he felt anxiety slowly seep into his core. Ethan didn't notice, however, as he began to fumble through his pocket. "What're ye--" Jack clamped his jaw shut as Ethan took out his phone in a hurry. "NO!" He shrieked, startling Ethan out of his stupor._  


_"Woah, I'm not--"_

_"You cannot tell ANYONE!" Jack panicked, voice raising an octave. "No one! Not even Tyler or Mark!" The words tumbled out of his mouth, as he skated backwards until his back was to the railing. "If they found out--shite! You can't, oh my god, **pleasedon'ttellanyone**!" He begged in a panic as he felt a stinging sensation in the back of his eyes. His entire body was shaking at this point, breaths coming out in quickened pants as it felt as if his lungs were constricting, and he felt incredibly hot._

_"J-Jack, calm down--"_

_"Calm down?! You weren't supposed te know!" He whispered, heart leaping out of his throat as he gripped the railing tightly behind him. "No, no no no--"_  


_"Jack--"_

_"I'll do anything! Please, jus--"_

_"JACK!"_

_Jack looked up, startled at Ethan's sudden outburst. The boy was leaning across the railing, staring him down._

_"I'm not that much of a moron." Ethan said, causing Jack to flinch. "Why didn't you tell us? We would've kept our mouths--"_

_"Really?" Blue eyes looked up from the ice, and Ethan stiffened. "Even Tyler? Even Mark? The two people who dislike this ' <strong>Septic asshole'</strong> to begin with? I've only known you guys for a month and a half!" He hugged his arms close to his chest, shivering. _

_"Is your identity more important than your frien--"_

_"Don't you DARE pull that on me, Ethan Nestor!" His voice was shrill, as his anxiety was replaced by a growing anger. "It's not important to me, but its obviously important to everyone else here! At least with my identity hidden, I can have a normal life with actual friends! I'm still Jack, but nobody will see that if they know!" He was panicking now, shivering as Ethan was startled into silence. "It's easier to hide the truth then be open and be filled with a fucking shitload of trouble and--"_

_"Jack...have you ever **actually** had friends before?" _

_Muscles immediately stiffened, as Jack's grip on the railing nearly faltered. His hands clamped down tighter, as he bit the inside of his cheek harshly._

_"Y-yeah, I have--"_

_"Have you really?_

  
_The question jabbed at his anxiety, and he wanted to curl up right there and cry. It practically overpowered every other sense at that point, as one of Jack's worst fears seemed to be setting into play. The overwhelming amount of emotions he was feeling at this moment caused him to start shaking again._  


_The silence filled the rink, and Jack took deep breaths as an attempt to calm himself down._

_"...N...not real friends...not until now.." Jack spoke slowly, sniffling slightly as he refused to swipe at the tears building up. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing again. His mind wandered back to when he was in Ireland with his parents, how he went to school, but he never really made, well...friends. Especially once Jack started figure skating, and won his first competition while he was still in Elementary school, where people began to avoid talking to him--or the opposite, where people talked to him just because he was 'popular'. At the time, he loved the attention, but as he grew older, he began to realize how hollow everybody was--and that was when they had moved away from it all._

_When he expressed this to his mom, she was surprised. And that's how it started. She had bought a mask for him-- a masquerade sort of mask, resting on the bridge of his nose, with black gems on the side. He was thrilled as a child, pretending that he were some sort of superhero as he competed in yet another competition during the seventh grade. That was when he had started to gain attention, as people from his school began to whisper to themselves as people actually started to pay attention to iceskating. Jack was thrilled, since usually the main sports in America was Soccer or Futbol, however that happiness died down when he realized that they were talking about **him.** Septic._

_He never took to socializing out of fear of getting caught red handed._

_He also had to listen with disgust as girls flaunted about, claiming that Septic was the 'new shit', and he managed to last throughout highschool without socializing outside of group projects and answering questions on tests. Until he moved. Until he met Ethan, Tyler, Mark, Wade, Bob...._

_Anger slowly diminished from his body with each breath, as his throat constricted. Ethan was staring at him, staying silent for a long moment, as if expecting Jack to speak._

_Jack didn't._

_Ethan sighed, pushing his weight off of the railing._

_"Alright." He said simply, causing Jack to slowly look up at him in confusion. Ethan pocketed his phone, expression neutral, as if he had gotten the answer that he had been searching for out of Jack. "I'll keep quiet."_  


_Jack perked up, about to open his mouth, but Ethan cut him off with a raise of his hand. "But! Under one condition."_

_"Anythin." Jack whispered, voice barely loud enough to echo around the empty rink. Ethan's blue eyes focused on Jack's, as an unusual seriousness clouded his features, eyes hardening as he leaned forward slowly._

_"You have to tell Mark."_

\----

Friday came around, and Jack was the first one at the table per usual, fork picking at the gross looking salad he tried to persuade himself to eat. A pool of anxiety was settled in his stomach, a sort of excitement, as he thought about tonight.

The Hockey Game was today.

He twisted his fork, chewing the inside of his cheek as he never took a bite, and he didn't even flinch as Ethan sat down next to him. Ever since the encounter, Ethan was...well...normal. It was as if it never happened, as if he never found out, and yet Ethan's words haunted Jack. Just...how could he tell the two people who hated his alter-ego? His foot kicked against his bag by this feet, and Ethan silently ate his pizza, looking up as the two people Jack was dreading to see came into view from around the corner.

Jack's eyes immediately darted down, his face reddening as they sat at the table.

"I'm telling you, Logan is weaker in the defense. He tries to get the puck between your legs, then knock you down. He's more on the offense than defense." Tyler was telling Mark with a serious tone, and Mark nodded his head along as he tossed his bag down lazily towards Jack--causing the other to jump slightly. If Mark noticed, he didn't show it.

"Yeah, which is why I think I might have a shot at being an offense. Get the greater players to be defender." Mark said, causing Jack to look up with narrowed eyes. _Greater players...? Since when was Mark so..._ The thought died in his throat when he got a good **look** at the other boy. Mark's demeanor had completely shifted, his usual confident bravado having died down to someone who's shoulders slumped, as if he were trying to get away from the world. Brown eyes were staring down at the holes in the table, and his demeanor just screamed nervousness.

It was just...wrong.

"Remember last game though? You were a great defender! Got the puck back up to the offensive more times than I could count. You saved our asses." Tyler reminded him, as if echoing Jack's own observations in his sunken behavior.

"You really fuckin showed him. Heard the guy you knocked over sported a nasty bruise." Ethan chimed in.

"Heard he resigned outta shame." Jack added, eyebrows lowering dramatically as he looked at everyone.

"Heard the team kicked him of--" Ethan continued.

"They made urband legends about Mark--"

"The terrible Fischbach, the brick wall, the--"

"The indestructible shield--"

"The last defender--"

"The last guardian--"

"Shit, that was a good game!"

"Jack, Ethan, Jesus." Mark huffed, though a smile graced Jack's features when he noticed Mark had been chuckling along with their shenanigans. Tyler was also chuckling along at this point, though Jack didn't miss the wary look on his features when his eyes landed on Jack.

"But that's not all!" Ethan chimed in, throwing an arm over Jack's shoulders and pointing upwards triumphantly. Jack staggered slightly against his weight with a guffaw and a quiet 'oh jesus'. "Mark Fischbach, the terrible, the fierce! The legends say that he is the fiercest highschool hockey player around! No one could beat him!"

"Yeh! I heard that over a hundred hockey players charged him once, all of them got sent to te hospital!!" Jack added with a dramatic voice.

"I heard it was two hundred!" Tyler leaned forward, grinning.

"Do I hear a thousand?!" Ethan yelled out, causing a few people passing by to give them strange looks.

"You guys are pathetic." A new voice spoke up, a lunch tray thunking down onto the table. Bob stood, a scowl on his face as he suddenly placed his foot onto the seat, looking out as if he were staring at a beautiful scenery. "I heard he beat Tyler, one on one."

"Okay, maybe not that one." Tyler mumbled, and everyone burst into a fit of laughter. Mark practically deflated, though he was struggling to contain his giggles, and he was glad that whatever form of anxiety that was struck in his features were no longer present.

"Oh right, I forgot." Ethan spoke up, giggling here and there as he scooted closer to Tyler with a shit-eating grin. "IIIIIIII'm Tyler, and I'--"

It happened in a flash--suddenly Tyler grabbed Ethan, pulling him into a headlock and placing a hand over his mouth. Mark reeled back with a snort, almost choking on his sandwhich, and Jack practically roared in laughter as Ethan struggled and nearly kicked him in the face. "Shit--gross! Licking my hand wont work!" Tyler yelled, and Jack was wheezing as Ethan laughed through his nose. Blue eyes met brown throughout the whole thing as Jack struggled to stop laughing, and Mark chuckled along, before winking and getting to his feet.

"IIIIII'm Tyler and I have noo legs!" He yelled, strutting about just out of reach of Tyler. Tyler, on the other hand, made a nose of frustration as he let go of Ethan to lunge at Mark--and Ethan got to his feet laughing.

"IIIIIII'm Tyler and I fisted a whole herd of goats!" Ethan said, whipping terribly. Tyler stopped, whirling around to face Ethan as Mark retreated backwards.

"IIIIII'm Tyler and I have crippling Depression!" Jack nearly choked at that.

"IIIIII'm Tyler and I have seveeere hemorrhoids!"

At this point, Tyler had stopped trying.

\----

When the bell rang, Jack felt a bubbling sensation in his chest and an unusual giddiness as he snuck a glance at everyone else. He was fiddling with his pen, chewing his lip as he made no nerve to get up yet. His mind wandered towards his mom and, oh boy, the disappointed look she would have had on her face if she knew where Jack was going.

Hockey?

It was a barbaric sport, a disgrace to skating in a sense--at least, that happened to be their family's logic. Jack, however, couldn't find himself following through with that idea. He thought it was a cool sport, anyways, something in ice but nothing like figure skating, it was like breakdancing against ballet...right? Both were two different forms of dance, but both included talent, and Jack respected both of them. Its the same with Hockey. Just cause he was a figure skater, doesn't mean he can get cocky, and claim that _he_  could do that, or call it barbaric.

He clicked his pen multiple times, leg bouncing up and down. He told his mom he wanted to spend time with his friends, but he had the fear of disappointing his parents practically engraved in his mind. He was just scared, like a little kid. What if he got in trouble? What if he wouldn't be able to talk to them every again? Oh god...what if mom had them move back to Ireland?

 _No way. Your mother wouldn't do that._  A voice in his head barked out. It was still a scary thought, though. He knew she wouldn't. But the thought of disappointing her, or letting her down...

"--Earth to Jack?"

He startled out of his thought process, and he realized he hadn't moved from his seat, paper still on his desk and pen in his hands. Brown eyes looked down at him in concern, and Jack felt a blush creep to his ears at his gaze, or maybe it was just his embarrassment?

"Oh. Heh, sorry, spaced out." Quickly apologized, shooting out of his desk like a bullet and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Those eyes didn't leave the back of his head--he could tell he was being stared down--as he turned in his paper to the front desk. Ethan and Tyler were waiting outside as both Mark and Jack left the classroom, and Jack felt his heart rate quicken as he subconsciously glanced over his shoulder, expecting his mother to yell at him--but she wasn't there.

"Right. So, I drive a truck.." Tyler began slowly as they were walking, shooting a look at Ethan.

"Er...Okay?" Jack didn't register why he brought that up. Good for him?

"You or Ethan might have to either ride on somebodies lap, or ride in the back." Mark spoke up, as they reached the parking lot.

A blush spread to Jack's face immediately as he uttered a soft 'oh', quickening his pace behind Tyler as they arrived sort of a run-down looking truck. Jack noticed some of the paint peeling off, but other than that, it looked fine.

"I can ride in back." Ethan chimed in, but Tyler grabbed his arm and opened the door. "I can ride in the middle." Ethan corrected with a squeak in his voice as he hopped into the middle seat. Mark hesitated, going to move in the truck when he notice Jack hoist himself up into the back of the truck with a grunt.

"Wait...What're you doing?" Mark asked him, knitting his brows.

"Riding in back?" Jack's voice broke slightly, making it seem like a question. Mark rolled his eyes, grinning as he folded his arms.

"What? Scared of sitting in my lap?" He asked, smirk forming on his lips as Jack slowly wanted to just curl up in a ball. His face flared, despite the cold air, and he scowled. American Bastard.... "'M not scared, I don't wanna crush ye." Jack retorted. "'Sides, he needs to see outta te mirror, I'll be blocking the-"

"Oh god, you haven't seen Tyler drive. Trust me, you don't wanna be back." With that, Mark entered the right side of the truck, and Jack found himself groaning at the sudden thought of being thrown off the side of the truck because he refused to sit on somebodies lap.

It was just Mark, right? He scowled to himself, catching Tyler's bag as he lazily tossed it into the back, before hopping off, beaten converse hitting gravel with a satisfying crunch before following after Mark and climbing in.

It's just Mark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be soon! I'm not too happy with this one, they all seem so out of character at this point. I blame my music taste, lmao, I usually write along to whatever songs I'm listening to.
> 
> And let me tell you, listening to Glass Animals while writing bubbly characters is hard. But I am SO OBSESSED with this stinking band that I can't stop listening to it!! 
> 
> Hahaha, that was off topic a bit! I'll be sure to get the aura of the fic back into order in the next chapter! Fingers crossed!!!


	5. Game on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack thinks he doesn't like hockey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to stop by and apologize. PROFUSELY. I went through the worst ever writer's block, EVER, mainly because I, personally, don't really like hockey games and I just never really pushed myself to finishing this chapter. But one day, I had to sit myself down, and tell myself: Hey! You need to finish this! You WONT cut off like every other story, you hear?
> 
> So I followed my advice, and here we are.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for leaving comments down for me, especially thank you for wishing me well on my recovery from the hospital. I got a flood of personal messages asking about it, but don't worry, I'm fine! Fully recovered and back in action, ready to write and entertain! Which means!~
> 
> Without further ado! Here's the next chapter!!!

Whatever Jack had grown accustomed to within the rink was swept under his feet the moment they pulled into the parking lot.

  
  
  


First, they could hardly find a spot. Tyler was cursing under his breath, his already-jerky driving (which Jack had to learn firsthand) became worse as his temper steadily grew. Which wasn't common, considering Jack respected him as a level-headed person. He suddenly hit it in reverse when he realized his Truck wouldn't be able to fit into the compact-sized spot, causing Jack to lurch forward a bit, before suddenly pressing the gas and driving down the street again, only to cause Jack to crash a little roughly against Mark's chest. Jack refused to look into the side view mirror, refused to watch whatever reaction would come onto the other boy's face, and he especially refused to look into those dark eyes that would surely greet him if he even turned his head.

 

It took a few minutes, but they had eventually parked down a block away, and Jack never rushed out of a car that fast in his life. 

 

"Damn, we're a block closer than last time!" Ethan called out, stretching his arms above his head with a small smirk on his lips.

 

"Who knows, maybe we won't be twenty-five minutes late since we're up so close--oh wait." Mark teased.

 

Tyler refused to speak to any of them.

 

It seemed as thought this was this school's 'football' game, in popularity at least. It was like everybody at school and their damned mother decided that today was they day that they were to visit the rink, to cheer their team on. It was almost overwhelming--their school wasn't even that big of a school (according to google), and yet their team made up for it in spirit. EVERYONE went. By the time they got inside, it was absolutely packed, buzzing with life and excitement. Their school colors, Red and white, was seen literally everywhere--hair, make up, clothes, banners, everything. 

 

It made Jack feel slightly under-dressed, and he wondered just how everyone could change so fast--except, he had to remember that most of the student body left school already looking like that. Immediately after arriving, Mark and Tyler separated from Ethan and him, leaving them both to buy some tickets by themselves as they ran off to the rink.

 

"How come they didn't let them leave school earlier to go to the Rink?" Jack piped up.

 

"Good fucking question." Ethan hummed, not bothering to look up from his phone. He chewed his lips, knitting his brows as he took a moment longer than necessary to answer. "We've been having this sorta fight with the school for a while, apparently they don't see it that necessary. Meaning most players only get around five minutes to practice, while the other team gets mo--YES!" He did a fist pump, interrupting himself as he lowered his phone.

 

Jack only met his enthusiasm with a raised eyebrow and a well-hidden chuckle, as Ethan took that moment to dance on the spot. 

 

"Hell yeah, today's special is fucking pretzels!"

 

....

 

Oh.

 

"Don't give me that look, Mcloughin! You have not had the pretzels here." A clammy finger was jabbed in his face, hazel eyes bearing into blue with a fiery passion, all for...pretzels. "They're the size of your fookin head-"

 

"Don't make fun of me accent, you fooker." Sean scoffed, slapping his hand away. Ethan merely smirked, before turning his attention to the lady to buy their tickets. With that, they began to make way to the stadium.

 

"Man, it's gonna be fucking packed, we better get the good seats." Was the only comment from Ethan as they walked. Jack chewed the inside of his lip, blue eyes darting to the boy next to him, then to watch where he was going. He didn't want it to be awkward, he just...didn't know what to say? It's just been so different, ever since Ethan found out about Septic. If only he didn't--

 

"Watch it." Someone barked, shoving Jack a bit to the side to bump into Ethan. Ethan scowled, looking over Jack's shoulder to the group of teenagers walking off, shaking his head and patting his shoulder in reassurance. They didn't need to say anything else as they pushed open the  door, entering the rink that was practically roaring with life.

 

Sean had stop for a moment and just stare.

 

The stands, which were originally bare and empty, was packed with the student body--his student body, from his school. His jaw practically unhinged as he recognized his school colors--red and white-- worn by almost every living, breathing person who took their spot in the rink. The other team's support was so lacking compared to his school's, that he almost felt sorry--instead of it being an equal number of audience for both sides, Red and White were on both sides, practically shoving Blue and Yellow into the corner. And even though both teams were currently on the ice practicing before the game, the chattering was enough to snap Jack out of his trance.

 

"It's crowded." He breathed, looking around in hesitation. Should he really be here? He didn't even bring any Red..

 

"You think this is crowded? It would be more crowded, if Homecoming wasn't being worked on by Spirit leaders and volunteers." Ethan commented, grabbing Jack by the elbow to keep him moving. Jack sheepishly apologized to the people behind him for stopping, as they filled into the bleachers. His blue-haired friend seemed to know what he was doing, since before he knew it, he was standing right up front, close enough to where he could touch the rink's edge. 

 

"Homecoming?" Jack breathed, fingers tingling and foot bouncing as they took a seat. His eyes trailed the ice, which was recently polished, feeling a yearning in his chest as he watched the player's feet slide across the ice, and how he wanted to be there himself, in front of a crowd, smiling in front of an audience with his arms raised. A smile, something broad and gleeful spread to his face without his knowledge, as he felt a bit of giddy followed with a sensation of freedom. 

 

Then he stopped himself, for he realized he was close to jumping out of his seat. Not to mention, Ethan was still talking, unphased by Sean’s sudden energetic behavior. “...and usually, we have floats, last year we had based it off of popular tv shows. This year is movies, I’m hoping it’s Harry potter, ooh boy.”

 

“Wait, when is this?”   
  


“What?”

 

“Homecoming.” 

 

“You don’t know?” Ethan asked, raising his eyebrows as if he were shocked. Sean’s face began to turn pink, causing Ethan to back down a bit. “It’s a month from now. The dance itself isn’t as fun--what you really wanna look forward to is prom, there’s food.” He was about to say something else, when there was a sudden loud, blaring horn, causing everyone in the stands to erupt into an excited roar.

 

Jack must’ve missed the fact that the game was started, as he watched the head player from both sides skate to the center of the rink. It was Tyler, versus a more broody looking man, with big shoulders and a nasty attitude. Jack found himself gulping, leaning back a little bit into his seat as the talking died down, a ref skating onto the ice towards the two players. Oh jesus, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, bt he found his heart beginning to race with anticipation.

 

Was this anything like skating? No. It was a sport, an actual competitive team sport that could get violent. He found his stomach beginning to churn, as Ethan leaned forward, watching intently as the ref skated off, and a few more players skated onto the ice.

 

It looked like a soccer match--then again, that was the only other sport Sean had played, when he was smaller. The positions are the same, right? He found his breath catching as Tyler and the other man bent down, pretty close to each other, puck between them and stick in hand, before the whistle was blown.

 

Tyler was knocked down, and Ethan practically erupted in a fit of yelling. For someone who’s laid back, Jack did a completely double take as the crowd behind him followed suit.

 

And so the game began.

 

It wasn’t thirty seconds in before the first score was made. The student body was furious, rising to their feet and yelling, having enough sportsmanship to not boo the other team at least. Tyler got to his feet, skating forward and hunching slightly as if he were in pain, but still pushing forward.

 

Oh god, so that other guy must have been the Logan that Tyler mentioned at lunch. The teams met up again, as the puck sailed from the middle, and again Tyler got knocked back--though not down. He furiously turned, skating after the bigger boy with a stick in his hand, and Jack was almost scared that he was going to smack him with it.

 

The defenders immediately charged forward--all except for Mark, who backed up towards the goal, stick in hand as if he were to protect the goalie. Logan skated past the defenders in a rush, knocking one into the side of the rink to where he hit the railing, before beelining towards the goal.

 

“Fishbach!” He heard, what he assumed was their coach, yell. Mark snapped out of his trance, and Jack watched intensely as he skated forward towards the bull, squaring his shoulders.

 

He could hear the collision from across the rink, and he was about to look away and cringe when he noticed the puck sliding across the ice, towards Tyler, who immediately took it into his possession and charged the goal. He looked back at Mark, who was still standing, and Logan, who was furiously getting to his feet. Jack felt himself smiling like an idiot as Logan skated back, and Mark chased him off, all the way to the halfway point and--the buzzer went off.

 

“HELL YEAH!” Jack roared, standing up and cheering as they scored a point. He felt the roar of the crowd behind him, and he felt a strange sense of power and drive boil in his blood--something he’s never felt before as he cheered on someone else. 

 

That’s how the game went.

 

It was neck and neck during the first half, points being tossed back and forth as the game began to get heated. Three of the school’s players were out of comission by this point, meaning the benched players  were up, which meant that it was only going to get harder from there. Logan was charging again, puck in his possession towards Mark, who again stood in front of the goalie as the second-to-last-defense. Mark squared up, skating forward to block him, but Logan had another plan. He ducked down, ramming his shoulder into Mark’s chest, forcibly throwing him to the side as he rose his puck.

 

The buzzer rang as the puck was shot.

 

The buzzer must have messed with Logan’s focus, since it didn’t hit into the goal, instead bounced off the wall to the goal’s right.

 

Jack didn’t focus too hard on that, as the ref’s voice announced intermission--or half time. His blue eyes were filled with alarm as he shot up, about ready to run onto the ice before Ethan forcibly pulled him back. Mark slowly got to his feet, holding his chest as if he were having trouble breathing, before skating over towards the bench. Jack shook off Ethan’s grip, jogging over as people began to go towards the snack bar and bathrooms, and he found himself sitting next to Mark after grabbing his water bottle.

 

“Thanks.” Mark’s voice was gruff and breathless, eyebrows knit as he winced after he spoke up--as if speaking hurt. He grabbed the bottle, practically downing it as Tyler sat down to Jack’s right. 

 

“How are you guys holding up?” Jack asked, expression filled with worry as if he were a protective mother, and Tyler patted Jack on the shoulder--though it wasn’t with as much energy as usual. 

 

“We’ll be good, this ain’t the first time we’ve faced this team.” Tyler breathed--his voice was also strained-- before he dumped a bottle of water onto his head. Jack’s eyebrows shot up high as he noticed that the other boy’s head was actually steaming, and he swallowed hard, pretending like he hadn’t noticed.

 

“His defense is weak, but I can’t last, Ty. He found out how to break mine.” Mark spoke, and Tyler grimaced, as if he knew the information but didn’t want to accept it. Jack chewed his lip, remembering how Mark’s defense was basically the thing that was saving them--he was the only one who was able to block Logan successfully so far.

 

Tyler didn’t say anything for a moment, and they listened to the crowd of people as they went and conversed. Jack was eyeing the ice, chewing his lip as he tried to think of a plan. He wasn’t a team sport person. He had no idea how those worked, even with his little time during elementary playing soccer. He just...he had no idea how to help, and it made a part of him want to scream. Breaking the silence, Tyler got to his feet. He tossed his bottle to Mark, before going off to who-knows where. Which left Jack and Mark alone.

 

Hoo boy.

 

Jack found that he was forcing himself to keep his knee from bouncing, leaning forward and folding his hands as he stared off into space. He couldn’t put it into words, but his stomach felt like it were twisting--but not unpleasantly, he wasn’t  _ sick.  _ He just felt like he had a serious case of ADHD as he glanced at Mark. 

 

Sweat caused his skin to glisten in the light, creating a highlight that made the other boy glow. His tanned skin was reddened at his face, his chest rising and falling at a more calmed rate now that he had a chance to sit down and take a break. His hair, bright red from the dye, was curling slightly, and it was partially stuck to his forehead due to sweat--like he just got out of a shower.

 

………

 

God!

 

Jack immediately looked away, face flushing furiously as he immediately leaned back and folded his legs. Nope. Nope, nope nope nope! Not allowed, Mark’s your  _ friend.  _ Him, in a towel, completely shirtless with water dribbling down his stomach is NONE of your business! But the more he scolded himself, the more he thought about that, and oh man. Well.  _ I mean. It’s a friend thing. Friend’s wonder about those things. All the time. ALL THE TIME. _

 

“Hey.”

 

Jack yelped, jumping a whole feet away from the other. Oh shit, did he say anything aloud?! Did Mark guess just what was going on?! He opened his mouth, about to profusely apologize for his behavior, when Mark beat him to it.

 

“Thanks for comin’ tonight, Jack. I’d usually have some witty commentary with that, but I’m spent.” With that, he winked jokingly, grin forming on his face. 

 

Wow.

 

Jack was gay.

 

The thought caused him to jolt, face turning red as he immediately scolded himself. He couldn’t have a crush on Mark, he was his friend, not to mention...Wait. Did he have a crush on Mark? Oh god. No, he wasn’t gay--was he? Shit. He cleared his throat, closing his mouth before a fly could swoop in or something. “Don’t fret.” He replied, trying to keep his cool. “It’s awesome. I mean, have you seen yourself out there? You’re terrifying.” 

 

Mark burst into laughter-- a gut laugh, something that caused Jack to begin to chuckle as well. “Me? Terrifying? You got the wrong guy, Mister McLoughlin. I’m a man of softness, a flower blowing in the wind.” 

 

“Uh huh.” Jack rolled his eyes, slowly allowing his shoulders to lose their stiffness and opting for a grin of his own. The other boy’s face lit up a bit more, as he leaned back against the wall behind him, breathing in deeply. “Make way! Mark Fischbach, skating down the rink! Oh no! Watch out fer the flower to yer face!” Pretending to get hit in the face with such a monstrosity, Jack fell backwards. The only mistake?

 

The actual bench was a foot from the wall--Mark knew, Jack didn’t. His butt slid into the empty space, and he shrieked as his shirt lifted and his bare skin touched the cold metal. “Ack!” He squawked, attempting to pick himself up, but his knees were hooked on the bench and he was absolutely stuck. “Merk, hey, can ye--ye asshole!”

 

“OH MY GOD AHAH.” Mark was clutching his stomach, wheezing with laughter at Jack’s position. His butt was touching the ground underneath, and yet his shins were resting on the bench beside him. Jack’s face was practically burning, and oh god was he glad most of the people here couldn’t see into the area they were in….except for the people across the rink

 

“Shut it!” Jack nearly shrieked, scrambling to get up--failing in the process.  “Help me up! Help me--aaack! Peh, peh, yuck!” He coughed on his own spit, and oh god, he was a mess.

 

He wanted to die with humiliation. Mark finally sat up, leaving a sweat-stain on the wall as he began to help Jack out of the situation. He gripped Jack’s hands, still giggling profusely as he began to attempt and pull Jack up, tugging at his hands gently.

 

Nothing.

 

Mark’s giggles were quickly gone, as he knitted his brow and tried again. He pulled a bit harder.

 

Nothing.

 

Oh, it was on. Mark now hopped onto the bench, attempting to pull upwards (much to Jack’s discomfort, for multiple reasons.)

 

Nothing.

 

This was it. Mark grabbed Jack by the armpits, putting his foot down onto the bench and pushing upwards. Jack practically shot out of the spot, going higher than they both expected as he ended up scrambling frantically as--oh no--they began to fall backwards towards the floor and--whumph!

 

“Oh jesus, oh god Mark are ye okay?!” His accent was straining from stress at this point. He propped his elbows up, looking down at the boy beneath him as his face began to burn. He immediately scrambled to get to his feet, fire dancing underneath his skin at the fact he actually fell on top of the other--when firm hands gripped his elbows and brown, mirth filled eyes met blue.

 

Jack lost his breath, finding that his eyes couldn’t pull away from the other’s, as if he were drawn into the cool and collected orbs. His eyes twinkled, and crinkled at the corners, a smile evident on his lips as he let out a huff of breath. Jack’s lips parted, and he couldn’t help but think ‘wow, he should go a day without wearing his glasses’  because this was the first time he’s come face to face with the other, to gaze directly into his eyes. 

 

Mark began to laugh, a low chuckle that vibrated throughout Jack’s body, and all the turmoil in the Irish boy’s body seemed to melt away as he found himself smiling. Then giggling. Then dying with laughter, as Mark sat up, causing Jack to roll off of him and clutch his stomach as the boys rode out the waves of giggles.

 

It wasn’t until Tyler walked in on them, giggling like a bunch of morons and pointing at eachother like it was the funniest thing, that they became self conscious of where they were. Jack immediately got to his feet, face red from the lack of air as he pulled Mark to his feet, patting his shoulder. Tyler hummed, before holding up a bowl he brought back of sliced watermelon, and he plopped down onto the bench as he began to munch on a piece, not saying a word.

 

Mark snatched a slice, as he got down from his little high, and Tyler shot Mark a serious look. “Okay, now that that’s out of your systems.” He shot him and Jack a look. “We need to think of a plan. Three of our players are out of commission, the three that replaced them aren’t nearly experienced as the other’s. It’s not looking good.” Jack frowned, looking around. All the other players were currently crowding the snack bar, and he found himself knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

 

“How bad are their injuries?”

 

“Michael has a concussion, he’s currently getting treated. Jamie broke his finger--at least it looks like it, swollen like a bitch. Addel is bruised up--I think he can play a bit more, if he’s up for it.” Tyler hummed, leaning forward and setting the bowl into Jack’s lap once he sat down. He gingerly took a slice, as he gazed out into the rink.

 

“The only thing I can think of is that we need to get rid of Logan--but that would ruin our rep, not to mention that’s foul play.”  _ Logan didn’t seem to think so.  _ Jack thought bitterly as Mark spoke up.

 

_ “Yeah, which is why I think I might have a shot at being an offense. Get the greater players to be defender." _

 

Jack frowned, gazing out onto the ice. 

 

_ “Remember last game though? You were a great defender! Got the puck back up to the offensive more times than I could count. You saved our asses.” _

 

Why was he remembering this now? He glanced over at Mark, whos eyebrows were knit. What did he say earlier?  Right at the start of half-time? 

 

_ “His defense is weak, but I can’t last, Ty. He found out how to break mine.”  _

 

Did he? If that were the case, then he wouldn’t be as good of a defender. At least not this game. After all, they were relying on him to block, but if Logan found out how to get around him…

His eyebrows scrunched together, and he began to chew his lip. 

 

_ “...a shot at being offense…” _

 

“Are you sure Logan can get past you now?” Jack questioned, turning to Mark. Mark startled out of his stupor, raising his brows in question.

 

“He gave me a knowing smirk--I’m positive.” Mark grumbled, shoulders sagging slightly in dejection. Jack’s frown grew, before he turned to Tyler--who also looked as dejected.

 

Sometimes, when Septic’s choreography didn’t work, he started something completely new. Even if it meant a chance at failing completely, he still took risks. Couldn’t this team do the same? Testing his luck, he spoke up.

 

“Why not make Mark an offender?”

 

Both heads shut up, Mark looking shocked and Tyler looking surprised. 

 

“Are you insane?” Mark leaned forward, staring Jack down. “That could ruin the game, you know. I haven’t had nearly as much practice as an offense than as a defense.” 

 

“You said so yourself, you can’t block Logan anymore.” Mark reeled back, like that was a slap to the face. Jack didn’t back down, though, following the feeling in his gut. It was up to Mark to perceive this however he wanted. “Weren’t you eager to try offense earlier this afternoon? And everyone at the table shut you down, because you saved the game by blocking? Well, what if you’re missing an opportunity by not trying something new? Your defense broke on this guy, there’s nothing to accomplish by going back over there and trying the same thing again. Now seems like a good time to try somethin new, Mark.”

 

Now, it was Tyler’s turn to be shocked. Then, he slowly leaned forward, scrunching his eyebrows and oh jee, maybe what Jack suggested  _ was  _ wrong. That was, until he suddenly turned to Mark. “You know, actually..”

 

“Oh hell no, Tyler.” Mark breathed, looking exasperated.

 

“It could work.” He gripped Mark by the shoulders, looking dead serious. “We could switch spots. Maybe I can defend him. You’re quick, you can get the puck from him--if anything, you’re both going on offense, you can throw him off. Think about it!”

 

“No way, this is ridiculous. You don’t just make a defender an offender--”

 

“Its besically the same mechanics. Defense IS an offense. You charge forward when they get close, the only difference is that you have the puck and you’re avoiding them.” Is this Tyler’s stuborness? He hadn’t experienced it first hand.

 

“Yeah but-”

 

“Mark. At least try it for a bit, if you don’t like it we’ll switch out.” 

 

Mark scowled, stuffing his face with watermelon until his cheeks puffed out. He looked like a pouting child. 

 

“I’ll take that as that you’re gonna try.” 

 

Now a scowling child.

 

Jack felt a weird sense of butterflies in his stomach at the exchange, mainly because oh shit, Tyler agreed with his idea and if this didn’t work, it’d come back to Jack. Having stayed silent during the exchange, he offered Mark a shoulder bump, which he didn’t return. Oh boy. His phone buzzed, causing him to quickly check it in a chance to escape this awkwardness.

 

‘I got a pretzel for u my dude.’

 

Jack’s eyebrows shot up, as he began to text back to Ethan.

 

‘The one’s the size of my head?’

 

‘Yeah, haha! Oh, P.S, I saw you and Mark down there. ;)’

 

………..

 

God.

 

Jack facepalmed so hard that the slap was heard by the other two boys, who had continued talking without him. He ignored them as he, instead, began to text the other boy back.

 

‘Uh huh. I’ll meet back with you.’ Act like you’re cool. If you react it’ll only confirm suspicions, right? Jack got to his feet, turning to face the other two boys. “Ethan got me a pretzel, I’m gonna grab it before he eats it.” His face began to burn at their gazes, before a player knocked into him on accident when he was trying to squeeze by.

 

“‘M sorry.” The boy grunted, and Jack laughed awkwardly, scrambling up the steps and rushing off with a cherry face, refusing to look back as more players went passed him to discuss the game.

 

\--------

 

The pretzels were definitely bigger than Jack’s head. Tastes better too. Jack and Ethan were back in their original spots, after Halftime was declared over, and the players had made their way back onto the rink. As Jack bit into his pretzel, savoring the salty caramel taste, his eyes focused on Mark, who was the last to step onto the rink. He could see that tuft of red from anywhere, even if it were tucked under the helmet, he could still see the tufts sticking out, just barely. 

 

His shoulders were tensed, and instead of going back towards the goal, he skated towards Tyler. They fistbumped when they passed, and Mark stopped towards the center of the rink, looking remarkably...short against Logan.

 

Speaking of Logan, he was just standing there, and Jack could just sense the suspicion riding off of him in waves as Tyler took his spot towards the defenders, turning to face the center of the rink and getting into position. The ref skated up between them as Jack quickly swallowed, setting the pretzel down as he leaned forward. 

 

There was a silence, as again the student body calmed down, falling quiet as the puck was set down. Mark and Logan came forward, incredibly close as they placed their sticks against the puck, both tensing up as Jack leaned forward a bit. The ref skated backwards, and blew the whistle.

 

Logan was knocked back, and Mark zoomed off like a bullet. Jack hollered loudly, eyes wide as he reeled back with his hands to his head. Did he see that correctly?! Ethan’s pretzel dropped to the ground as Jack shot to his feet, cupping his hands to his mouth as he cheered Mark on.

 

The first score of the second round was in under fifteen seconds. Ethan shot to his feet, screaming and grabbing Jack’s arm as if he were going to faint. The student body was going nuts, mainly because they didn’t expect the sudden retaliation. Mark skated back, shoulders losing some of their tenseness as Tyler bumped into him and slapped his back. 

 

Logan looked furious as the boys lined up again, taking their positions. Ethan had to force Jack to sit again, so the others could see but you know what? Who gives a damn! He was ready to jump out of his seat again, attention focused on Mark once more as the whistle was blown again.

 

Mark took the puck again, barely avoiding the other boy’s massive shoulders. He raced towards the goal--only to get his puck stolen and for him to get knocked back. 

 

The stadium filled with chatter, as the puck was knocked back and forth, both goalies managing to hit each shot right at the last minute. It became more of a game of going back and forth, chasing something that was too small and too fast to obtain properly as Jack could see the glass begin to fog up a bit. 

 

There was a buzzer, and boo’s, and he could only assume the other team shot and scored. 

 

“Ughh!” Ethan groaned, whatever sportsmanship he had, gone. At this point he was just as frustrated as Mark, who had hunched shoulders and was skating back towards the center of the rink.

 

“This is goin’ nowhere.” Jack whispered, looking over at the time. They were on the third period, right after intermission, ten minutes left. And so far, they were tied. Which meant...what? Sudden Death? Every player brawls for the win? He stifled a snort as he imagined the chaos, puffing up his cheeks as he attempted to keep air from releasing out. 

 

“C’MON MARK! YOU CAN DO IT!” Ethan yelled, startling Jack once again at how loud this person can be. The crowd roared behind him, as if agreeing with the bluenette, and Jack was reminded once again of just how powerful this arena could be.

 

Minutes ticked by, the intensity slowly driving up a wall. Neither side had scored at this point, leaving a silenced rink as every person inched forward in anticipation. Jack swore, he could hear every slice of a blade on ice, every cough in the crowd and every pant of breath from the players. He leaned forward in his seat, nose practically inches from the glass as his breath began to fog up the glass-but he didn’t give a damn as he wiped it away to keep watching. 

Tyler had the puck.

 

He skated forward from spot on defense, cradling the puck with his stick as if it were just meant to be with him. His shoulders were tensed, and he swore he could see the sweat flying off of him with his movements. And just like that, the puck shot forward.

 

“They gotta score. If they don’t, we’ll lose.” Ethan breathed, as if he were trying to reassure himself--but Jack could hardly pay attention to that. The puck was put into another player’s possession, as that player then shot forward and ducked past another offense trying to ram into him. The smaller boy, maybe even smaller than Jack,  ducked under another player, before shooting it off to what he assumed was Addle, due to the bruising on his cheek. 

 

Ten seconds.

 

Addle shot forward immediately, reacting like a bullet as Mark followed suit on the other side of the rink. The time was ticking down, seconds by seconds, as the anticipation and the tension began to grow. Jack could hear his own heart beating as everything seemed to slow down--he couldn’t see any other player but those two, syncing up as they shot forward at an equal pace. 

 

Five.

 

Addle looked up, before quickly looking at Mark. In a moment’s decision, he shot the puck over at Mark.

 

Four.

 

Addle was knocked backwards roughly, and the puck was in Mark’s possession. Jack didn’t need to see his face to know how much pressure Mark must be in--he could feel it in those milliseconds.

 

Three

 

Mark weaved out of the way of a player, puck going between a defender’s legs as he quickly came back around. He wasn’t gonna make it.

 

Two.

 

Mark’s blades sliced against the ice, the sound of scraping metal practically burning into Jack’s ears as he stood up, screaming with all of his might for Mark to go. He wasn’t gonna make it.

 

One.

 

The puck sailed from Mark’s possession. Time slowed down to a standstill, as the puck sailed towards the Goalie. He wasn’t gonna make it. The goalie turned, sharply turning his position so he could try and defend the goal. He wasn’t. The stick came down to block the puck. He….

 

He made it.

 

Time sped up as the stadium erupted into chaos. 

 

The sound resonated within Jack, and possibly everyone else, as everyone simultaneously screamed and leapt to their feet, cheering, hugging the person next to them, whistling loudly.

 

He made it.

 

Ethan was screaming, hopping up and down in excitement. The player’s on the ice suddenly swarmed Mark, to what he assumed was to pat Mark on the back, ruffle his hair, punch him in the shoulder and cheer for him.

 

He made it.

 

Jack’s knee’s buckled, and before he knew it, he was running--down towards the player benches as the player’s began to make their way over. He jumped over the railing, feet landing on the bench they were previously on, before he hopped off. Mark seemed to notice the sudden blur of movement, for he picked up the pace--but Jack was faster as he lept on the ice and crashed into his friend, enveloping him into a tight, tight, TIGHT hug.

 

“Holy shite! Holy shite Merk did ye SEE yerself. T’ere wasn’t anyt’in those basterds could do te ya! Ye fookin kicked arse, holy shite!” He was fumbling over his words, excitement coursing through him as he could barely contain it. He was practically bouncing with energy as Mark let go of him, pulling Jack away to get a good LOOK at the Irish boy--but he didn’t care.

 

He felt like he was on his fifth shot of coffee on a hard day, and oh boy, he didn’t regret it. 

 

“Deep breaths, holy shit.” Tyler spoke up, breathing hard as each player ducked through the opening to the rink, plopping down onto the benches. Jack managed not to slip up on the ice. 

 

“Ye big American loon! I told ye it would work!” With that, he ruffled Mark’s hair as the redhead plopped down. He was about to say something else, when Wade practically crushed Mark with a hug. Bob also seemed to manifest out of fookin nowhere, causing Jack to have a mini heart attack...and following behind him was a breathtakingly gorgeous girl.

 

So this was Molly? Jack felt a smile growing already, as Wade practically slammed Mark’s back with the force of a truck--which is surprising, because they usually made fun of the dude for being wimpy. Wimpy, Jack’s ass. Mark choked on his water, swallowing hard.

 

“Holy crap! You did THAT!” Wade yelled, looking just as excited as Jack was--and thank god about that. If he had a clear head, he woulda shot the idea of charging Mark down by a longshot. Thankfully, he was just too happy. Like Wade.

 

“Did you SEE how badass you were?” Bob demanded. Ethan dropped down the same way Jack did, though he immediately went towards Tyler, who was talking to what Jack realized was his dad. Mark’s face was bright red--something you don’t normally, so Jack felt a smile creep onto his face. As soon as Mark had sat down, though, he got back up.

 

“Heh?”

 

He patted Jack on the shoulder, offering him a smile as he passed him to go back onto the ice. Jack turned, realizing that some of the other teammates were already there, too. Tyler was the last to join once the other team was on the ice, and Jack frowned.

 

“Wait. Isn’t it over?” He asked, a little too loudly. Bob elbowed him, causing him to reel back a bit.

 

“Tradition.” Was all he said. 

 

Both teams lined up, team captains in the front, before skating forward in a line, shaking each member of the other team’s hands. Jack blinked a few times, watching intently--especially at Logan, who gave Mark a fistbump, after surprisingly patting Tyler’s shoulder while shaking his hand--like they were good friends. And just like that, the line ended, and the scoreboard shut off.

 

The game was over.

 

As Mark skated back, running a hand through his hair as he tossed off his helmet, still breathing heavily from adrenaline, Jack smiled… and when Mark looked up, the goof brought on the broadest smile Jack had ever seen.

 

Hockey?

 

Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more!


End file.
